Funny Games
by Venere Veritas
Summary: The path to adulthood is littered with traps and mines that make life as difficult as possible. With each action is a consequence that worsens your chance of becoming the real self. Doflamingo thought there was a way out of it, that he was immune to any surprises life tried to throw at him. But then someone he cared for threw a real curve-ball. Rated M for eventual DxC
1. Memory of the First Meeting

Figure I'd try out this pairing for a story. It's not too popular within the fandom, but I enjoy challenges and writing a story for these two seems right up my alley. Another AU, so "real world" rules apply. Ages and height have been modified.

**Important AN**: Warning; this story will deal with serious gender issues. For those of you who are aware of the more ludicrous _One Piece_ theories out there, you may know where this is going. However, because of the eventual content that will be posted in this story, I am giving readers a warning, after all this story is set within the "real world". If you are not sure what sort of issues I will be writing about, and you are worried about how it will affect your reading experience, please PM me and I will explain you in better detail. If you are aware of the theory I've decided to write about, or you don't mind surprises (though there will be hints throughout the story), then go ahead and continue reading from here.

Thank you for your time.

* * *

-**Part 1**-

Memory of the First Meeting

**-Then-**

Before the lust and insanity there was something that resembled innocence. It could have never been called real childlike innocence because by the time Doflamingo and Crocodile met one another each had been tainted by cruel reality. Of course at his age Doflamingo wasn't aware of what made him so awful and cruel compared to the others in his classes. He was only about five at the time, when he met Crocodile, and when he learned about the games called living. If memory served correct then Crocodile had been aware of his dysphoria for several years, bringing him ahead of Doflamingo in this area by a whopping five years. Perhaps even more embarrassing to admit, Crocodile was the one to point out the distorted reality that Doflamingo willingly partaking in, not that Crocodile ever meant it. No, correction; they both performed actions that would lead to that series of horrifically unfortunate events.

Almost everything about Crocodile that evening was false. All but the smile on his face when Doflamingo asked about the treasure was a result of Crocodile staring at the mirror in his earlier stages of life and attempting to mimic what he considered to be his sense of "real." Doflamingo would discover many years later that this "real" would ultimately contradict the world he had intimately created with his close friend. This wasn't to say he was any better: Doflamingo knew his life was just as real as a plastic was natural.

On the evening he met Crocodile Doflamingo had become semi-aware of his mediocre existence. The bourgeois lifestyle provided by his well-to-do family had done nothing but entrap him in a state of nasty fanciness and nauseous over-security. With the promise of a private school and life of law and order ahead of him Doflamingo had suddenly felt the need to escape the future painstakingly planned for him and chose to run away.

With nothing but the clothes on his back Doflamingo left his home. He had no real plan other than to find a new place to call his, but Doflamingo didn't really know what life was like outside the gated community, and was shocked to see what life was out of the the tinted car windows. After running past the rows of trees that hid upper-class community Doflamingo was welcomed into the middle and lower class life. The sun was setting on busy street and the dry summer air was making everyone less than friendly. No one seemed to notice the small child who stood in shock at the smell of musty air, the sight of filthy pavement and all around lack of greenery. But even as he was ignored Doflamingo took a great interest in the strange new world he had entered into. Outside of the daycares, the parties, and the company planning events he had never seen so many people, and in so may different shades of color and attire. He continued straight and past by many onlookers who showed hardly an interest in the lost child, Doflamingo's grin confusing all who did spot him.

Eventually the child made it into a quiet neighborhood, by then the sky was a mild purple-orange. The air was still hot and dry but every so often a cool breeze would run between his bare legs and cause him to shiver, his nose tingling with new foreign scents. Doflamingo could not remember why he chose to rest here in particular, but he had indeed stopped and finally took a good look at the unusual surroundings. It was here that the most spectacular thing happened. While Doflamingo came to his abrupt stop and began to look around his eyes landed on a figure across the street, nursing on a can of New Coke, dragging a worn out backpack, and staring right back at him with a bored expression. It was the first child he had seen free outside since he had left his gated home, and the appearance of someone close to his age made Doflamingo happy since he knew by this point it was only the adults that brought misery. And because he had been raised in a sheltered community, Doflamingo knew nothing about "stranger danger" and, without looking both ways, crossed the street and met up with the older child.

Even at such a young age Crocodile appeared somewhat jaded compared to the rest of the children Doflamingo was acquainted with. Doflamingo didn't know about the five years of fighting, a year of misery, and mistook the child's lidded stare as fatigue from a long day.

"Hi," it was no surprise that Doflamingo was the one to make the first move, not so much that Doflamingo had a very open personality, but the boy in front of him disdainfully could have cared less to. He stared up at the older youth with a wide grin. "Who're you?"

The can was lowered from the dismissive face. He could see the entirety of the boy's person, and as soon Doflamingo could make out the roundness of the shape, the pale, smooth skin and lips he immediately looked away, focusing his gaze instead on dirty red Converse, then on the backpack.

"What's that?" Doflamingo asked, pointing at the object that was left lying on the sidewalk.

"Hmmm." It wasn't a question. It wasn't curiosity. It was observation.

"Huh?" Doflamingo said.

"You're lost." And this was a statement.

"What?" He asked, looking right back up.

"I've never seen you before. You look funny. You don't look like you belong here."

"Doesn't mean I'm lost," Doflamingo said, his grin fading just a little.

"You're dressed strange," the boy said. The frown on the boy's face appeared cemented on. Doflamingo disliked it, thinking the child more attractive when he was wearing the bored, tired looking mask.

"So are you," he replied back playfully, not letting the older boy's words get the better of him. He tilted to the side and peered over at the backpack. "Do you have school?" he asked.

"No, it's summer," the boy answered. "School doesn't start till September."

At that moment all Doflamingo could think about was that it was the middle of July, and according to a really catchy song, after July came August, and then after that September. "I have to start school soon," Doflamingo said, his voice dropping. "I don't want to go."

"You sound like a baby…"

"I turn six in October!" Doflamingo proclaimed.

"Great, a five year old," the boy muttered. He rolled his eyes and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his small shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Doflamingo asked.

"It's private. Go back home."

"I can't," he said. He walked in front of the boy and pointed in the direction that he had run from. "The people there are dumb so I'm never going back home. I'm running away to a better place that isn't so bad!"

"You're running away?" the boy asked.

"Uh-huh," he answered. "Everything there is so…different. It's hard to explain. Nothing back home looks like…_this_." Doflamingo had raised his arms and waved them in emphasis, hoping the older boy would understand him. "It doesn't feel right. I can't stay there anymore."

"Cool. So I was right," the boy said. "You're lost."

"I'm not afraid of getting lost," Doflamingo said, which was very true. In fact, the idea that he was lost could only be viewed as a huge positive. If nobody at home could find him then he would be better off.

"You're going to starve and die," the boy said. He took a sip from the can and smirked. "You'll get lost in the desert and get eaten by coyotes."

"Will not," Doflamingo said.

"I saw one chase a rabbit once," the boy went on, taking pleasure from Doflamingo's growing frustration. "It caught the rabbit and the rabbit screamed! There was a lot of blood."

"If a coyote comes at me then I'll fight it."

"Do you think you'll win against a coyote?" the boy asked, still smirking at Doflamingo.

"I think I can kill it."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Doflamingo said.

"Alright then, lets go," he said.

"Go where?" Doflamingo asked.

"The desert!" the boy answered. "I need to do stuff there anyways. Maybe there will be a coyote."

Strangely enough, this didn't at all worry Doflamingo. In fact he was feeling rather confident about himself and his need to impress the older child.

"Ok," he said.

The boy grinned at him, exposing a rare sight that Doflamingo would later grow to crave. For now the boy was content with just smiling back.

"Follow me," the boy said. His hand held tightly to the strap of the backpack as he walked past the boy. Doflamingo scampered behind him, his focus growing on the cluttering sounds coming from within it.

"So what's in your backpack?" he asked.

"Stuff," the boy answered.

"What kind of stuff?"

"None of your business." The boy leered over and watched Doflamingo with suspicion.

"I promise not to tell," Doflamingo said. He fastened his pace in order to match up with the older boy. He peered up at the boy and attempted his most honest, innocent looking smile he could muster.

"Promise?" The boy repeated.

"I'll never tell anyone," Doflamingo said.

Doflamingo would eventually know this day as the day where he would get to see just about every rare, impossible act performed by Crocodile, one of them being the breaking of his very personal mantra to never, ever trust anyone. Crocodile must have known then and there that Doflamingo wasn't just an ordinary boy that was passing by. He must have somehow foreseen that he would visit this neighborhood again, many times, for years to come. Or maybe he was just over thinking the simple thought process of an eight-year-old child.

"Fine, but if you tell I'll get very angry."

"I'll keep it a secret forever."

He stared at Doflamingo warningly, waiting for the younger boy to change his mind from the threatening glare. When that didn't work he finally gave in and answered:

"It's treasure."

"Oooh, what kind?" Doflamingo asked enthusiastically. His brightened expression and eagerness had surprised the older child. But behind those shocked eyes Doflamingo would see, remember something rather special. It was something that he wouldn't ever be accustomed to seeing from Crocodile, or from anyone that he would come to be acquainted with later in life. And being that it was so genuine, so real, only would make the rest of the summers they shared together seem so meaningless compared to this moment.

"Coins. Money." _Happiness. _

"What are you going to do with it?" Doflamingo asked. His interest in Crocodile's personal life continued to shatter the walls that the boy had built for himself. But he didn't seem to care, only smiling back at Doflamingo's innocent questions.

"That's a bigger secret." _You cannot buy happiness._

"Why wont you tell me?"

"You wouldn't understand." Doflamingo took it as an insult to his age. But there was little he could do. He submitted to the boy's whims and instead tried to change the subject.

"I'm thirsty," he said. Nearly three hours in hot summer heat had actually taken its toll on the boy long ago. Parts of his face and legs had suffered mild burns, and although Doflamingo wasn't quite aware of how severe his thirst really was, he was in fact dehydrated and in great need of liquids. But to Doflamingo he was just thirsty.

"You ran away from home without any food or clothes," the boy said. "It's going to be super hot tomorrow. You're so stupid."

"Am not," Doflamingo said. The boy stopped and handed him the can of Coke. Doflamingo took the sticky can in his hands and felt the lukewarm liquid swirling inside. He took a sip of the flat soda was welcomed with the wonderful taste of high fructose corn syrup. He licked his sweetened lips and smiled at the boy.

"Are you going to bury your treasure?" he asked.

He smiled back. "Yeah."

"Cool. Buried treasure." Doflamingo took another sip and licked his lips. "I'm hungry."

"I have a Twinkie," the boy said. Doflamingo noticed the sudden lack of hurtful comments and felt his smile grow when he came to realize that the boy that made him feel so strange was just being nice to him now. He took the snack and, having never tried cheap Hostess products before, took great delight in tasting the high fat, low nutrient treat. Once finished he wiped the stray oils that were sticking to his fingers all over his clothes. The boy patiently waited, exposing the usual tired expression Doflamingo had been greeted to before.

"How old are you?" Doflamingo suddenly asked.

"Eight," the boy answered. He was practically an adult in the younger boy's eyes.

"What's school like?"

The boy frowned. "Nobody listens," he answered. "Everyone, especially the teacher, is a retard." The last word was spat out in disgust. Doflamingo could see the same frustration he felt on the boy's face. It felt good knowing he wasn't the only person to feel this way, but seeing the boy's twisted expression made him uncomfortable, so he changed the subject once again.

"What's your name?" he asked. The question the boy had neglected to answer earlier was being asked again, and now Doflamingo needed to know the answer.

"My name?" Doflamingo could see the boy grow nervous. Crocodile hated surprises, almost as much as he hated placing trust in another human.

"Tell me your name first," the boy said. "And then, I'll tell you mine."

The first game they played together.

* * *

He followed the boy, can at hand, taking notice of the ever-changing scenery. With the sun setting lower it was becoming harder to take everything in, but somehow he managed to see that the trees were becoming sparse with every street they crossed, the roads dustier with sand and gravel, and dried bushes and small hills replacing homes. He wasn't sure how he had missed it, but suddenly Doflamingo and Crocodile had literally hit the end of the road. The neighborhood that had been so lush before was gone and now looked like it was about be eaten alive by giant rocks, hills made of sand, and gravel. Doflamingo remembered passing by the "Danger: Do Not Cross" sign, almost eager to see what lay behind the miniature mountain. He also remembered smiling, and he remembered Crocodile smiling as well. He let his hands sink into warm sand, using all fours to make his way up the mounds, and felt bits of things finding their way underneath his nails. He slipped a few times and his clothes were ruined with dirt. The can of Coke fell out of his hand and had splashed all over the place, some of it hitting Doflamingo's leg. He ignored it only because Crocodile told him to, and by now had grown somewhat impatient that he let himself slide down the large mound to help Doflamingo the rest of the way.

He remembered how small his hands were. Caked with dirt, with nails chipped and grimy, but somehow still soft, almost perfect. That small hand, gone several years later, had a thin scar running down the palm. He'd let his fingers roll down the line so many times. This was the first time he would hold his hand. Doflamingo grabbed tight to Crocodile and was pulled the rest of the way up.

The scenery was new. He imagined a desert to be flat and full of cacti like the way it was portrayed on television. Everything was misshaped, there were no roads, no roadrunners, thankfully no coyotes, and other than the occasional desert shrub, everything was sparse and empty. But he liked it. He liked that it was nothing he had expected. He liked that there were rocks of all shapes and sizes. He likes how messy everything was, that it wasn't a boring, flat valley. He liked giant piles of sand that choked his throat dry. Best of all, he like that there was no one to bother him, and that he was with someone he liked.

"Come on," Crocodile said. He ran across the curved landscape, leaving Doflamingo to admire the new surroundings all on his own. Finding it to be rather lonely at the top without the older boy Doflamingo followed, but took his time, still trying to make out the alien wasteland. Crocodile slid down and began to run over to a small cluster of rocks. Doflamingo slowly made his way down, his eyes now squinting in order to make out the various shapes that were becoming harder to see. He could hear crickets chirp, and he could also hear faraway yipping.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"This is it," Crocodile said. He pointed at the small cluster of rocks and sat himself down right next to it.

"Where your treasure is kept?"

"Yeah," he answered proudly. He lifted the rocks and carefully placed them around in a circle. Doflamingo quietly watched the delicate ritual now taking place, paying close attention to how the boy unearthed the shoebox full of precious coins, and the way he carefully dusted everything off and slowly removed the top. He opened his backpack and pulled a small bag full of change, yanked the strings open, and proceeded to dump his earnings inside the box. Doflamingo expected this to be the end, but then saw Crocodile suddenly dip his hand in the shoebox. He leaned in close and watched the boy pull out two quarters and place them by a rock. After that he placed the shoebox back in it's shallow hole and buried it. Doflamingo counted the rocks that Crocodile placed around the spot.

"You should make it into an "X"," Doflamingo said. "All you need is a few more rocks."

"That's so dumb," Crocodile said. "Everyone will know something is buried here." He picked up the two quarters and handed them to Doflamingo.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Bus fare," Crocodile answered. "Or for a phone booth." He shook his hand in front of Doflamingo, trying to get him to receive the sudden offering. "Take it and use it to go home."

"What? But why?" Doflamingo asked. He pushed Crocodile's hand away. "I don't want to go back."

"You don't know what you're doing," the boy said. "You can't runaway without taking any important things. You left without food, clothes. You probably don't even know where to go."

"So?" Doflamingo asked.

"I bet you didn't even leave a note," Crocodile said. "How can they learn a lesson if you don't tell them why you hate them so much?" He crossed his arms and shook his head. "People wont learn lessons unless you make them hurt really bad. You just left without a warning. What good is that?"

"You think you know?" Doflamingo asked.

"More than you," he answered. It was a goddamn bold statement. Doflamingo knew it was true. It was real now, ant it hurt his feelings knowing that he might be wrong to have left so unprepared.

Doflamingo frowned and stuck his tongue out at Crocodile. "I'm not going back. If I do they'll never let me go out again." He felt his eyes well up in tears, but he didn't cry. Doflamingo quickly wiped his eyes to stop any tears from fully forming. He couldn't show any weakness to this boy who seemed to enjoy his falters and frustrations. No, it would be a while before Doflamingo finally cracked and broke down. "You don't understand. They never want me to do what I want to do."

"You're so spoiled."

"No, that's not it," Doflamingo said. "They're never around. They don't even know me, but they do things for me all the time even though I never wanted them to! I hate the place where we live, and I hate all the stupid people they make me talk to. I hate them all." Saying such words made Doflamingo's face grow hot and his chest tight and cold. His dry hands hurt and his fingers almost dug themselves into his skin. But even though it hurt, there was something so liberating in saying such hurtful words about his own family.

"So you're going to run away?" Crocodile suddenly asked. Doflamingo could see the boy was less irritated with him now. Couldn't see anything else, but someone he saw the face.

"Mhmm," Doflamingo said. Then the craziest thought entered his mind. "You should come with me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Cause I think you wanna runaway too," Doflamingo said.

"Dumb idiot," Crocodile said. Extremely redundant, but Doflamingo took it as though it were an insult of great proportion.

"Don't call me that," he swiped his hand at Crocodile. "Why do you know so much?"

"...Maybe I did try before," Crocodile said.

"Where did you try to go to?" he asked, not "why didn't it work?" or "why did you try to runaway?" or anything that might have angered the boy. Just a question that would hopefully awaken some feelings, rather than pester Crocodile and continue arguing with him about who was right and who was wrong. Besides, Doflamingo had a strong feeling that he already knew the answers, which, to an extent, was true. Both of them were extremely dissatisfied with something.

"West," Crocodile answered. "I want to see the ocean. But that's all the way in California."

"Where's that?" Doflamingo asked.

"Right next to us," Crocodile said. "But it's pretty hard to get to."

"Oh," Doflamingo muttered, eyeing the small pile of rocks that hid the boy's buried treasure. "I've never seen the ocean before."

"Neither have I," the boy said.

"Maybe next time," Doflamingo said. He tugged at the bottom of Crocodile's shirt. "Hey, lets go together."

Crocodile frowned. "With you?" he asked, almost offended by the mere idea.

"Yes," Doflamingo said.

"So, you're not going to run away now?"

Doflamingo blushed. "No, not today I'm not. Later. At the end of summer. Before school starts."

"You're going to run away in the beginning of September now?" Crocodile asked. "No school?"

"Yeah," Doflamingo answered.

"Alright then," Crocodile said. "We'll go in September." Doflamingo had no understanding in the art of sarcasm and took the older boy's false promise as genuine. Of course, they wouldn't go to California in September, nor would they get to go the following year. But Doflamingo would remember the promise for years to come.

The sun was now almost completely engulfed by the scenery. The sky was dark; the moon and stars were emitting the only clear light. Crocodile escorted Doflamingo back into the neighborhood; all the while Doflamingo had so many questions he wanted to ask. Where did Crocodile live, he wondered. What school did he go to? Would it be possible for him to go with the boy?

It had to be past nine when Crocodile suddenly grabbed Doflamingo by the hand and brought him close. Doflamingo felt a sudden rush of blood race across his body as the boy ahead of him remained silent and stiff. Doflamingo could hear sirens in the distance. His eyes lowered to the hand that held his and wished there had been a coyote for him to fight.

"Crocodile," Doflamingo said. It was the first time he had ever said that name. "Where do you live?"

"…none of your business," he answered.

"I don't want them to take me away." Doflamingo frantically tugged at Crocodile's arm, his heart racing as the sounds of siren screams began to get louder, the bright red and blue flashes becoming visible in the darkness.

"You want to teach them a lesson?" Crocodile asked.

Doflamingo stopped trying to flee stared at Crocodile's growing grin.

"Wait," he said. "Wait till they stop and try to rescue you. Then run. Run as fast as you can. Let them know you don't want them in your life. Make sure your parents know you don't need them."

Doflamingo smiled. But then Crocodile let go of his hand, freeing him and abandoning him at the same time.

The police car made an immediate stop in front of the two. Doflamingo continued to look over at Crocodile to see what the boy would do, each and every time he was shocked to see such a calm expression on his face. He was so bored. This was all a game to him. Adults in uniforms hovered above him with a relived smile. They asked for his name. They waved a finger at him, scolded him for being out so late, for being so far from home, for making his mother and father worry. Poor mother, poor father, because never being home and never really knowing what their only child was up to was enough of an embarrassment. How dare he run away and have them face the sad reality that they were both so lousy at their job? A hand was offered to him. It wasn't Crocodile's, but the officers. Doflamingo turned to Crocodile, waiting for a signal. There was none, just a annoyed looking boy, arms crossed and looking away from the other officer who was trying to shame him for playing with a lost child. It was clear that he would have to do this on his own.

Doflamingo extended his arm just a bit, giving the false impression that he would obey the orders that had been given to him. It must have appeared realistic since Crocodile actually watched in mild horror as Doflamingo produced a pitiful smile at the officer. But as the officer leaned forward to take Doflamingo away the boy pulled his arm back and summoned all the energy he had and made a mad dash to the left. He coughed up air as heard the officers behind him swear and scream out his name. His body broke out in a sweat as he heard the sounds of feet stomping on pavement, quickly catching up with his. He was going to get into trouble, they warned, but Doflamingo knew this was false. They couldn't control him. He was nearly out of breath from running, and could feel wind from angry hands trying to grab him brush against his back. They wanted to capture him like a wild animal and force him back into the cage. The thought made Doflamingo produce a wide grin that stretched across his face.

He laughed. He slowed down, but he kept on laughing. And he laughed. And he laughed all the way back to the flashing car, where Crocodile stood with the officer who had both her hands griping tightly on his small shoulders, and he was laughing too. They both laughed as he was handcuffed to the car, Crocodile at the embarrassed officers, Doflamingo at the beauty that he had just seen cast before him; the reddened faces, the yelling, the messy hair covering a young boys perfect smile. They were both in love with living.

It would be more than two months before Doflamingo was lucky enough to explore this new world again. The promise of running away had not been broken, merely prolonged and turned into a long term goal. But if there was one thing Doflamingo could never forget, it was Crocodile's recognition of him after nearly eighty days of separation–_the breaks in between would only grow longer–_and his soft voice as he called out to him.

"Doflamingo, you're back."

* * *

Comments and Criticism welcomed.


	2. Dealings and Playing Pirates

I do not own these characters.

* * *

-Part 1-

Dealings and Playing Pirates

-**Now**-

The drive to Vergo's place took nearly an hour to get to. Whatever the reason for being called, it had better be good.

It had been a long week. Planes hit some towers in New York, and the sale for cocaine surprisingly drops as citizens decide to suddenly stand together. Proud to be an American? Nonsense. Nobody really cared about being an American, whatever the hell that even meant. Everyone was hurt over having something precious taken away from them: their privacy, their sense of value and the discourses that came with being born in this country. Doflamingo had plans to make and he knew the only way to get there was to make dough. You'd think after something so horrifying people would flock to get their hands on some precious white gold in order to ease the sudden smack across the liberty. Humanity was a strange thing.

He pulled into the driveway of a nice, white suburban home and parked his car in an unfashionably crooked manner. The first thing Doflamingo noticed when stepping out of the car was the opened garage door and the lack of flasks and bottles. Vergo must have cleaned out. Did he really think some destroyed buildings would raise suspicion in a house located on the other side of the country? Although Vergo's worries made him feel somewhat distraught, Doflamingo couldn't help but smile at the opportunity of tossing drug dealing aside for something new. Perhaps something more profitable and less predictable, like humanity itself? Doflamingo grinned brightly at the thought of it. He had always been fond of selling the living. What better way to make money than to take hold of valuable flesh and bone and sell it to the highest bidder? Drugs destroyed the body and mind, but slavery only performed the latter. There were so many people trying to make money in the drug business, but not nearly enough people were capturing selfish white girls off the street and endowing them with the real knowledge of what was privilege and oppression.

"Vergo honey, I'm home," Doflamingo loudly announced as he made his way into the garage. He passed by the folding table Caesar had been using up till now and made his way to the door located at the corner of the once dingy room. Everything had been cleaned up just recently: the floors were damp from being hosed down, and the air had visible, white dust flying around. Vergo must have spent hours sweeping up the mess; tossing all the flasks, bottles, tubes, and buckets of chemicals, powders, flints, and over-the-top pills.

"Vergo, where are you?" Doflamingo called. He opened the screen door into the house and hunched over, his tall frame just making it through the door.

"In the living room," he heard a calm voice reply. He carefully made his way into the hallway, his shoes producing soft clicks against the hardwood flooring, and peered into the grand living room where his current ally meandered about. Around the room were taped up boxes, most likely containing all the materials. The screen door was closed, but the curtain was moved to just one side, exposing everything going on right now for any passerby peeper. Vergo was wearing civilian clothing today, which was extremely odd for Doflamingo, even with the current situation. Vergo's intense demeanor simply did not match this simple form of fashion.

"Uhm…"

"I seemed to have lost the remote," Vergo muttered disdainfully. He faced his boss and Doflamingo was all the more surprised to see Vergo without his sunglasses on, instead they hung on the collar of his shirt. "I was hoping to get some news in before starting the meeting…"

Doflamingo pointed. "The remote's in your hand."

The tall man looked down at his hand and stoically remarked, "So it is…ah, well it's a little too late for that anyways. I suppose you're wondering why I called you in, Sir."

"I really need to find another word for you to use other than "Sir"," Doflamingo muttered. He flopped himself on the leather couch and let his long arms rest across the frame. He smiled grandly at Vergo. "It's a little too…I don't know, _pretentious_, don't you think?" He stretched out his long legs on the glass coffee table, his grin growing wider when he heard a soft creak from underneath his legs.

"It's not really my place to say," Vergo answered with a slight shrug. He carefully placed the remote next to Doflamingo's crossed legs, flinching when he heard the glass groan from the added weight. "By the way, how has your output been since the incident?"

"I don't like it," Doflamingo said, ignoring Vergo's last comment. He was beginning to suspect, mostly from Vergo's well-adjusted behavior, that things would continue as is. He rested his finger and thumb against his chin as he pondered aloud, "What do you think? Would "boss" be any better?" He rested his head and stared up at the white ceiling, chuckling to himself. "Then again, with the change of business, it may be better for me to just give myself another new name to work with!"

"New business?" Vergo asked.

Doflamingo lowered his sunglasses, making sure Vergo could see the determined look on his face, how eager he was for this new opportunity.

"We're closing," Doflamingo said. "No drugs. Nobody wants them now. Smiles out, bodies in."

"Oh," Vergo muttered. A small frown appeared on his long face as he slowly began to lower his gaze away from the blonde. "Caesar will not like this."

"It was a good year," Doflamingo continued. "Be sure to send our beloved chemist a severance package, maybe some toffee and peanut brittle." He clasped his hands together in delight and laughed manically. "Better yet, we'll get him an Asian girl! He like's those, right?"

Vergo sighed through his nose and gave a short nod before situating himself on the couch right next to Doflamingo. He removed his sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and used them to cover his somewhat disappointed expression. "Might I ask why we're suddenly closing shop?" he asked.

Doflamingo crossed his arms. "Do you really need to know?"

"You said it yourself, it was a good year."

"You know I've never been into the drug dealing," Doflamingo answered. He spread his legs across the table, his right leg pushing the remote closer to the edge. "I like making misery, but drugs have been overdone to death. There's no money in it, not compared to the human trade." Doflamingo leaned in close to his subordinate, resting his head on Vergo's shoulder and smiling innocently at his severe expression. "And considering what just happened, the garage being cleaned out, and the last batch having been made almost two weeks ago, I think now's the perfect time to start anew."

"I simply moved everything across the storages," Vergo replied. He cusped his hands and used them to bury part of his face. "I figured you'd want to take precautions."

"And I'm glad you did," Doflamingo answered. He removed himself from Vergo, replacing his head with a hand. "You did a fine job. So did Caesar."

"What will we do with the remaining product?" Vergo hunched and pointed at the few boxes. "The remaining ingrediants?"

"Fufufu, sell it until we run out of course," he laughed. "You go to that marine base and see if any of the boys will have at it. I'll have Violet sell some of my half, maybe the kids at her school will be willing to buy."

"You'd risk selling crack through a fourteen year old?" Vergo asked. His voice revealed neither shock nor disgust at Doflamingo's suggestion. He didn't even turn his head.

"She knows what to do," Doflamingo answered with a greedy voice. "Would you rather I sell it myself? In this distressed economy?"

"I take it the attacks on the towers have not been well on your side," Vergo stated.

"Are you suggesting things are better for you?" Doflamingo asked.

"If I was to put up an argument for why you should continue business," Vergo said with a confident smirk, "it would be the successful deals taking place around that base." The man stood up from the seat and walked over to the stand located next to the television. Doflamingo watched patiently as Vergo knelt over and opened the drawer lifting out the false bottom and placing it on top the stand. "These men will take whatever they can get their hands on," Vergo commented, slipping out a key from the real bottom of the drawer. He then walked over to Doflamingo and handed him the key. "And nobody notices when a bunch of marines act out."

Doflamingo silently eyed the key before plucking it from Vergo, "What's this lead to?"

"A lock in my bedroom," Vergo answered as he sat himself right back in his previous spot. "Everything I've saved. For all of this. If you let me take your share I can show you how well business is right now."

"Just because you can sell now doesn't mean you'll sell in the future," Doflamingo countered. "Everyone's calling this a terrorist attack. How are you going to sell to these men once things start getting real ugly? Unless you're inside they'll have you searched and it will be all over."

Vergo frowned. "…You're right," he said, "and here I was thinking how insulting it was that you'd be relying on a teenager to make money."

"Violet's a smart girl." Doflamingo played with the key in his hand, letting it grow warm as it rubbed against his large fingers.

"Human trade is extremely dangerous," Vergo said. "And with this attack on the country how do you expect us to get away with it?"

"We'll have the advantage of starting right when security will be at it's strictest," Doflamingo answered. "Every big busy-man is going to be trying to readjust. With the money we have now I'll set up a series of possible trails and gather information on any trades currently going on. Worst comes to worse I'll even play the subordinate role in a bigger branch."

Vergo didn't answer. Instead he remained still, listening to his boss' suggestions. Doflamingo knew Vergo would listen to him. In the two years they've known each other he had managed to surprise the older man and create an empire. Doflamingo knew how to sell ideas. He knew how to get people to listen to him. He had territories spread out and rivals that couldn't compare their product to his. Best of all, Doflamingo knew exactly how to treat his customers. He kept Caesar's best saved for customers who had the big bucks, and offered the less pure gold to those who were desperate for a hit. He created addiction by giving away strong, clean coke to new timers, and once it became a daily routine, would raise prices and have them fight over what he chose to offer.

"And what do I tell Caesar?"

Doflamingo made a lazy, uncaring shrug. "It would be wrong if we told him today. I think I'll wait a few days, give him the impression things are fine. Once we've sold the rest of our product we'll give him his share and send him on his way."

"Not worried?"

"He won't say a goddamn thing," Doflamingo said. He got up from his seat and eyed the small key in his hands. Knowing Vergo had spent money on a safe, spent the time to hide a key, and had shown confidence in handing him the valuable information did make Doflamingo wonder about his choice to have Violet sell. Sure, kids were a wonderful demographic, but if Vergo was doing this swell of a job then maybe it would be wise to reconsider. And Vergo was a brilliant man, even with his threat of possibly being caught Doflamingo was positive Vergo had little to worry about.

Doflamingo chuckled. "Let's see how much you got saved up." He gestured towards Vergo to lead him to his bedroom. "Violet's smart, but if you've got what it takes then I'll have you take it."

He watched as Vergo suddenly light up, enthusiastic to prove himself in their soon-to-be-over business. Doflamingo wondered whether Vergo had felt just a touch of dismay over the loss of their dealings. No, but Vergo must have known that he wanted to change. Doflamingo loved destroying lives too much to settle with something so low as drug dealer. It didn't matter if he was to become the king of the streets. Doflamingo wanted something more. He couldn't settle for anything less than more_. You need it all,_ Doflamingo reassured himself.

"Show me the way," he said. He knew where Vergo's bedroom was, but chose for his partner to lead out of respect.

"Right away, _Sir_."

"Seriously," Doflamingo said, "we really need to find another word that doesn't make me sound like some conceited bastard."

"I'll be sure to think of something," Vergo replied. The two walked back into the hall, Doflamingo half-eyeing the family pictures that littered the baby-yellow walls. All were aligned in such a way that made the pictures appear crooked, imperfect. And it seemed as though every collection of family photos had a smiling child, a loving mother, and bright colors that would trick the visitor into believing that this was Vergo's life, his family, his everything. Surely the bent nail that hung an embarrassing photo of a young Vergo must have been bent out of frustration, misused affection, or nostalgia? It would be impossible to comprehend that a man would set the time aside to make certain photos were hung with less care than another, were doctored and organized to produce a sense of trust.

Doflamingo loved this man. He couldn't think of anyone he would place so much trust into.

"Doflamingo?" Vergo's voice seemed a bit out of its usual pitch. It was him being nervous again.

"What?" he asked.

"How exactly do you plan on getting all these people?" Vergo opened the door to his room and let his young boss through first. Doflamingo felt a small, almost childish smile emerge on his face.

"We take them, of course," Doflamingo responded. "It's not hard, Vergo."

"And where from?" his subordinate asked without letting the last comment sink in. Doflamingo knew that Vergo knew the answer to this question. America of course. Plenty of attractive men and women roaming the streets; there was no reason to outsource and gather girls from the streets of Europe of South America.

"You know we have a nice supply right here," Doflamingo stated. He walked right into a very plain bedroom that lacked any real sort of decoration that would provide a visitor the sense of who Vergo was. Of course, nobody would ever be so unlucky to have entered this strange sanctuary. "All we have to do is be clever in how we snatch them, and even more clever in where we place them!"

"You plan on selling them within the states?" This time Vergo was shocked.

"Fufufu, of course I won't limit myself to just outside the country," he answered. "I'll sell them all over the planet, and if someone here wants a California-girl, I'll give it to him for the right price."

Vergo sat himself down on the painfully neat bed. White sheets, white spread, white pillows. This matched the eggshell walls and off-white shelving. This wasn't a lack of personality, nor was it made to disgruntle anyone who dare enter the room. Nope, this was the real Vergo.

"Seems terribly risky," said subordinate muttered.

"Ah, Vergo, don't fret," Doflamingo remarked. He rested a foot on the wooden framing and kneeled over his second, his shadow covering nearly all of Vergo's self. His childish grin was replaced with a more sinister one, adult and full of greed and ghastliness. "It's not that hard. No more harder than taking anything else without permission."

Despite being bothered just moments before, Doflamingo saw Vergo smirk, and then chuckle. "You're comparing slave trade with stealing, you know that?"

Doflamingo pouted. "I don't like the term, stealing. Stealing. It sounds so… _juvenile_." Doflamingo hovered right above Vergo, allowing his sunglasses to slip and exposed a threatening glance at the older man. "And I know that's exactly what you're tying to suggest, _Vergo,_ that it really is quite similar. No, but it's not stealing."

"…is there another term you'd prefer?" Vergo asked. The well-composed manner of his voice sounded forced.

"Plunder," Doflamingo answered.

"And might I as what the difference between the two words?" Vergo asked.

"Stealing implies the childish behavior of taking another's property," Doflamingo answered, "and plunder involves the illegal, usually forced, taking of another's good." He removed himself from his previous position and stood upright in front of Vergo. "And if you're curious to know, the difference between property and goods, at least in this case, is quite simple." Doflamingo lifted a finger. "Goods are always in demand, which is why force is usually involved in the process, and," he lifted a second finger, "while property may be desired by many, it is by no means always in demand, and since it doesn't imply that same sense of vulgarity that plundering does it is often viewed as the lesser." Doflamingo lowered his hand, letting his two fingers stiffly curl into a tight fist.

"Children steal…men plunder."

"I understand," Vergo said.

"An the last thing we need is for our goods to think they're property," Doflamingo added.

"Ah, so there was a third point," Vergo said.

"There will be as many as I need there to be," Doflamingo replied. He felt his chest relax as he watched Vergo slowly sway his head up and down.

"Right," Doflamingo said. His eyes turned to the closet located on the other side of the room. "You had something you wanted to show me."

"Ah, yes!" Vergo stood up and began to pat down his pockets. "The safe…now where did I put the key?"

Doflamingo sighed through his smile and grabbed Vergo by the shoulder, his key at hand. "I have the key," he said.

"So you do," Vergo replied. He took the key and opened the sliding door closet, exposing the small safe located on the bottom. Other than it being tucked into the corner, only shielded by some shoes and a coat, the safe itself wasn't well hidden. Doflamingo took great pride seeing this.

"I'm expecting something big on the other side," said the tall blonde.

"You will," Vergo remarked assertively.

Doflamingo rested his arm against the wall, his body looming over the older man as he watched Vergo unlock the safe with the look of a greedy vulture. When the safe was opened he unconsciously dug his fingers into his hair. His nails scrapping against his scalp reminded him the amount saved was in fact real, and Doflamingo couldn't help but laugh as he got down on his knees and fished through the riches that Vergo had produced for him. _Treasure_, Doflamingo thought, _this is real buried treasure. More than _you_ could ever hope to produce. _

"You're profiting?" he asked gleefully.

"By one and a half," Vergo answered. "I was considering buying Caesar higher quality tools, but it doesn't look like we'll be needing to do that now."

"Vergo, this is amazing!" Doflamingo picked up a neatly tucked roll of bills and weighed it in his hand before carefully flipping through it. "And all of this was saved up during the year…from marines?"

"They're men without honor," Vergo stated.

Doflamingo placed the money back into the safe, feeling a rejuvenated sensation he hadn't felt in nearly a year. "That they are," he said. "Ah, yes, I'll have you sell the rest of the product we have left." He sucked in his lower lip and felt his chest grow cold with what he was about to say next. He knew Vergo was making money, and there was no evidence this change would be nearly as profitable as the current dealing he was doing now.

"Vergo," Doflamingo said. "We're not going to fire Caesar, not yet." He closed the safe and stood himself up, pulling down his tightened jeans as he acclimated himself back into his unusual domineering pose. "We'll have him produce here and there…but I do plan on trading humans."

"I see," Vergo said. "You don't think this will be too much?"

"It wont be anything compared to what I want you to do," he replied. He allowed some guilt to be shown as he sat himself down on the bed. "You're making money form these deadbeat soldiers, but we can't expect the higher ups to allow a strange man such as yourself to hang around these men, not after everything that's happened this week."

Vergo frowned. "What are suggesting I do?"

"Nothing too big," Doflamingo answered, "just join the marines and make me money for my new business."

_Things are coming up nice on this side. Very nice. How are they on yours?_

* * *

-**Then**-

Since Crocodile lived so far away the time the two boys spent together was precious, at least it was to Doflamingo. Studying brought by school restricted their weekdays hours to none for the first few years of their friendship, leaving Friday and the weekend the only time Doflamingo would be allowed to visit the other boy, and that was only if he could tire his mother out with a faked tantrum. Neither of his parents wanted him to play with the boy. A child who never smiled, left no address, and spent his days making mockery of others could provide no good influence of their dear, innocent, only son.

This was essentially true, but Doflamingo was sure he'd take up smoking cigarettes, pot, stealing drinks, food, and articles of clothing, music, and other accessories on his own time. All Crocodile really did was slightly speed up the inevitable.

"Stealing's really not that hard," Crocodile muttered as the two of them made their way to the liquor shop located at the opposite side of the neighborhood. The two hurried across the street, Crocodile leading the way and Doflamingo following him while making the occasional glance around the area, doing his best to remember the trees, houses, fire hydrants. This was their sixth time together, and the first time Crocodile would show him more of his tricks since they had first met.

"It isn't?" Doflamingo asked, his mouth agape with exhilaration.

"No, especially since there's two of us now." Crocodile pulled two dollars from his pocket, waving them above Doflamingo as though they were holy relics. "And you're young and cute and you're parents are rich so you wont get in trouble either."

Doflamingo did his best to not blush from the compliment. He turned his attention to the rows of nicer looking houses, making a mental note of their location and wondering if Crocodile lived in one of them.

"Just in case though, I'm gonna spend some money while we do it," Crocodile continued. Hearing this Doflamingo went wide eyed, feeling some of his nerves shake when he realized Crocodile expected him to do this without first showing him.

"What if I get caught?" Doflamingo asked. This was a rhetorical question because of course he would succeed in nabbing whatever Crocodile demanded he get.

"I already told you that you'd be fine," Crocodile said. He arched back and groaned loudly. "Look, if you get caught just scream and cry…they might let you go if there are other people and you scream and cry."

"Will you stay if I get caught?" he asked.

Crocodile's answer came in the form of a swift, elated laugh.

"What's so funny?" Doflamingo asked, frowning at the older boy.

"If you get caught I'm leaving," he answered. "You think I wanna get in trouble? It's your own fault if you get caught doing it."

"Well that not fair," Doflamingo complained. "I've never done this before."

"It's super easy," Crocodile said, stopping in front of Doflamingo and grabbing him by the arm. You're wearing sleeves. Just take two small things at a time, but put one in your sleeve." Crocodile inserted three of his fingers through the sleeve, tickling Dolfmiango's wrists. "You can probably fit gum and some candy in here."

"What about drinks?" Doflamingo asked, his eyes glowing from the joy brought on by the prospects of immersing in sweet teas, juices, and sodas.

"No way, you'll need pants or a backpack if you want to get that," Crocodile said, shaking his head. "You'll get caught no matter what, and once you get caught you can't ever return to the place without getting arrested or something!"

"Did you get arrested?"

Crocodile laughed again. "Hell no! I'd never get caught doing something so easy." Crocodile then moved on to the other article Doflamingo chose wore on this outing, his shorts. Doflamingo jumped when he felt the older boy inspect his pockets. Although there was no direct contact the brief warmth produced from the older boy's hand made Doflamingo extremely aware of how close Crocodile was.

"Your pockets are too small."

"Huh? What does that mean?" Doflamingo asked. Crocodile pulled away and bared his usual frown.

"Means you can't take anything really important," he answered. "No chips, no donuts, no treats." He sighed and stared at the dollars in his hands. "We're gonna have to buy them."

"Is that bad?"

Crocodile groaned. "It's expensive! A bag a of chips is almost a dollar!"

"I like gum," Doflamingo said, "We can get that instead." He smiled at the older boy in hopes that this would somehow make things all better. Crocodile shrugged and walked ahead of Doflamingo, purposely taking bigger steps to get away from what he considered to be a very annoying child.

But Doflamingo caught up and continued to try to appease Crocodile, his small mind eager to find a way to make Crocodile happy. But it seemed like not matter what he said Crocodile would only remark it as being stupid, or him being stupid for even thinking it up. Eventually the two of them made it to the store and Crocodile yanked the boy close and reminded him everything he had told him previously on their way here. He handed Doflamingo a dollar and told him to pick something that was less, but before he did pick it to wander around the store and pretend to look around.

"That's when you do the stealing," he whispered into Doflamingo's ear. "Pick two things up, put one away. Nothing too big or it will show and you'll get into big trouble."

All Doflamingo could think about was how much of a girl Crocodile looked when his hair fell frontward, covering some of his face, usually the harsh, unwelcoming expressions.

"Ok," he answered somewhat absentmindedly.

"And don't look up at the cameras!" Crocodile warned. "If you look guilty then the adults will ask you what's going on. They'll see you're trying to steal, and I'm not going to help you if you get caught."

"I wont get caught," Doflamingo confidently stated. He looked at the crumbled dollar in his hands and brought it to his face, inhaling the dry scent. How much could a dollar buy? He pulled at Crocodile's shirt and waved the dollar in front of him. "How much do Starbursts cost?"

"Fifty cents, but you can get that for free," Crocodile said. "Use the dollar to get a drink or something really nice." He pushed Doflamingo off of him and walked ahead into store. Doflamingo continued to stare at his dollar and wondered how much he could sneak in without spending Crocodile's money. He wanted to impress the boy so much.

So a young blonde boy wearing nice, currently clean clothes, a bright, pink smile, and the look of awe as he stares at his supposed allowance walks into a liquor store for the first time. The owner looks up from his papers and does nothing. This boy isn't a problem, he thinks. At worst, he won't know how to count the money. No way the child was up to something amiss.

Doflamingo peered up at the drinks selection and wondered how he was supposed to open the sliding door with arms full of candies and gum? He passed by it while lowering his gaze, still keeping a small, childish smirk as he followed the sounds of Crocodile's light steps. He stopped right behind the older boy who was picking through different varieties of chocolates.

Doflamingo stared at the rows of chocolates and slowly lifted his arms up, reviewing the limited space his sleeves offered. "I want a Kit Kat bar," Doflamingo muttered.

"It'll melt right away," Crocodile responded, still squatted over and viewing his potential bounty. "M&Ms last longer in the heat."

It was the middle of October, and the heat was the least of a hungry Doflamingo's worries. He loved the crispy wafers and would eat them right away. "I don't care. Get them for me," he demanded.

With a slight turn Doflamingo saw an eye look up at him with a testing stare. Without saying a word Doflamingo moved to Crocodile side, extended his arm up to reach at the rows of gum and picked two packets of mint gum. With Crocodile still staring intensely at him, Doflamingo carefully let the lower pack of gum slip, his middle finger struggling to keep it from falling anywhere other than the inside of his clothing.

"I like cinnamon," he heard Crocodile say. Doflamingo silently nodded and placed the mint gum away while his upper arm tickled with the cool plastic cover from the gum that he had successfully taken. He picked out two of the same red packets and proceeded to do the same with his left arm. He giggled as the packet ran halfway down his arm, stopping once the gum met with his elbow, and became quiet once more as he hurriedly resituated his arm to hide his second stolen token. When Doflamingo looked down Crocodile was still staring up at him, but this time with a pleased expression. In his hand was a Kit Kat Bar.

Doflamingo slowly browsed the store for a minute more, carefully stashing himself full of candies while Crocodile settled the heavier variety. It was after the older boy went to get himself something to drink did Doflamingo choose to spend his dollar on a Hostess treat.

Doflamingo remembered standing on his toes, carefully lifting his arm as to not lose the now five treats resting within him. His eyes barely met up with the cashiers, but despite his terrible view Doflamingo's small eyes met with a row of dark spectacles gleaming down at him. He swallowed tight as Crocodile called him out of the store, the pain of buyer's remorse hitting him as his focus began to center on the pair of sunglasses located on the top of the row.

"Hurry up!" he heard Crocodile groan. The boy had several hidden things on his self, two of them being delicate chocolate.

"OK! I'm coming," Doflamingo called out. He paid for his one snack while struggling to pull his attention away from the sunglasses that he really wanted to have.

Doflamingo left the store, his arms awkwardly positioned as he followed Crocodile back into the usual neighborhood, his mind still lingering over the temporary loss. As Crocodile halfheartedly congratulated him Doflamingo consoled himself into believing that it simply wasn't meant to be. He couldn't have bought them, sunglasses must cost at least a few more dollars.

Doflamingo become aware of Crocodile's more soothing tone once he felt one of the small packets of gum fall out of his sleeves and on to the pavement. He looked down and remembered he was full of sweets and began to remove them while Crocodile watched. Once he had all the other confectionaries out Doflamingo leaned down to pick up the cinnamon flavored gum, and was greeted with a hand holding on to a now soft Kit Kat Bar. He grabbed at the red package and smiled up at Crocodile.

"Thanks!" he chirped.

Crocodile merely rolled his eyes, choosing to scoff at Doflamingo's appreciation, but even the little boy could see past the other's hard demeanor. Crocodile was proud of him, proud enough to let some of his true feelings break through at the ends of his thin lips, taking the form of a very small, almost unnoticeable smile. "Next time wear pants," Crocodile responded.

* * *

It was nearly four in the afternoon when Doflamingo grew tired of the swings and decided to see what Crocodile was up to. The older boy had taken him to their usual meeting grounds, and the very place where Doflamingo had accidently stumbled upon Crocodile for the second time, a small park in the center of the neighborhood that Doflamingo had gotten lost in. Though Crocodile refused to talk about his home, the park did provide a place and address for him to make his weekend treks to.

"Crocodile, Crocodile," Doflamingo ran up to the tree that the boy had been sitting under, expecting him to still be at the journal that he had opened and began drawing in twenty minutes before.

But the journal lay closed on the grass, and Crocodile lay cured up underneath the shade, his eyes barely half open. _The fetal position_.

"Crocodile," Doflamingo complained in a high-pitched whine. "Get up. I wanna go play on the giant rocks in the desert."

"Mmmmm," Crocodile closed his eyes tight and buried his head in his hands. "Later," he moaned through his palms. "I'm tired."

"But I'm not," Doflamingo said. He crawled close to Crocodile and pulled some candy from his pockets. "Eat some Starbursts."

"No, I'm full," he echoed into his hands. The younger boy watched Crocodile make a face in between his fingers. "I'm tired." To be fair, it had been a hot day. The shade probably felt good. The fat and salts made the body tired. But Doflamingo was a six year old who needed to be constantly stimulated.

"I'm bored," he whined.

"Leave me alone, go do something else," Crocodile muttered. He grabbed a clump of some of the grass and threw it towards Doflamingo. The little boy grimaced at the green blades that covered him while Crocodile closed his eyes and continued to rest. Doflamingo wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him awake, but he knew better.

Doflamingo learned early on in this relationship that Crocodile had something of a bad temper. This wasn't to say that he mistreated Doflamingo. The older boy treated him as any other older child would, with a combination of affection, patience, and moderate annoyance. If Doflamingo did something that he disliked there was almost always a warning. Most of the time it was a look. He'd quickly turn his head that a few strands of hair would fall across his face, but Doflamingo would see between the strands a threatening look and would simmer down. Other times it was vocal; he'd hiss out the words "No" or "Stop it," or if he was really pissed off, "Leave." Crocodile never warned him with physical violence, other than the occasional push. A good thing too since Doflamingo was very affectionate towards Crocodile.

No, he saved the physical violence for other children who upset him. He gave little warning to those who bothered him. Most of the time Crocodile would just wait for them to get close enough and then would suddenly react with cruel retaliation. The weapon of choice usually took the form of sand. Doflamingo learned how something so simple could be used in a multitude of ways. You could throw sand into a persons face, grab handfuls and stuff it into their nostrils and mouth, rub it into scratches, pour it into one's clothing. Once left blinded Crocodile was left with an unlimited amount of options. Sometimes he'd continue to hurt them, usually with kicks, other times with scorn and laughter. But most of the time Crocodile would just watch his victims cry for a minute or two before getting bored and going back to play with Doflamingo.

Never once did Doflamingo think this sort of violence to be unusual. The first time it happened he was quite surprised, perhaps even a little shocked, but recovered fast as curiosity took over. Before he knew it Doflamingo was kneeling next to a crying boy almost twice his age, watching him with a small smile as the child tried to rub away infectious sand from his eyes. He would memorize their howls and helpless screams, and would recall the actions that Crocodile performed in order to achieve these results, and would later remind himself of all of this for later use. He'd carefully squat inches away from another crying child and wondered when he'd be respected enough by Crocodile to be invited into this act of torment. Doflamingo crawled close and wished he could create the same terror that the older boy could. _One day you will_, he told himself. Crocodile had to be the one to yank him away and return him back to the games they had been playing before. _And you did_.

Doflamingo began to remove the grass that had been thrown at him when his eyes rested on the journal lying on the floor.

"What did you draw?" he asked. Crocodile continued to curl himself up, only freeing his one arm to lazily gesture at Doflamingo that it was ok for him to look inside.

The young boy picked up the small, worn out journal, and opened it up to expose the crude depiction of a ship of some sort. Doflamingo lifted the journal up, the pencil acting as a marker fell and bounced on the soft ground.

"Is this a ship?" Doflamingo asked. "What kind it is?" He looked over and stared at a very silent Crocodile. After receiving no response for several seconds Doflamingo went back to looking at the picture. Although it had been drawn by a nine year old, Doflamingo did remember the amount of detail that had gone into the picture. He didn't know what it was until he saw the flag decorated with a skull and crossbones, a jolly roger, did Doflamingo piece it together. And then he realized the circles that littered the ship were cannons; the little stick figures holding small sticks were pirates.

"It's a pirate ship!" Doflamingo announced. Crocodile uttered a few audible noises before going silent again.

He flipped through a few pages and stopped at another familiar looking illustration. More skulls, this time encased around circles with lined ridges. It was pirate treasure.

He crawled over to Crocodile, journal in his hand, and waited a few minutes to ask the older boy a question. Of course Crocodile didn't wake up and Doflamingo was force to come up with the connections himself. But after several minutes of thinking it made total sense. Crocodile hid treasure out in the desert like buried treasure. It was just like pirates. And the pictures reaffirmed Doflamingo's suspicion that the aspects of it enchanted the older boy. Pirates had all the fun and adventure.

Doflamingo flipped to the end of the journal and tore out a blank page from the spiraled spine. Crocodile stirred but didn't seem too bothered by the sound. The young boy occasionally looked over, just in case, making sure Crocodile didn't wake up as he began to fold the page. After several attempts to fold the sheet into his imagined surprise for Crocodile, Doflamingo tore out another page, combined it with the original, and made a lopsided, pointed hat with it. He reopened the journal and flipped to a page that had a jolly roger on it. He had never drawn a skull before, and Crocodile's design looked too advanced for him to copy, so he chose to draw his own version instead. With the pencil at hand Doflamingo drew an almost perfect circle on his paper hat, followed by two smaller circles, which he colored in with the pencil. Since he was in a particularly good mood he decided to have his skull smile nice and wide for everyone to see. As carefully as he could Doflamingo made the grin, and began to space out the lines that would become the teeth. A few moments later and Doflamingo lifted the hat up and smiled at his hard work.

In need of immediate praise, Doflamingo chose to take the risk and gave Crocodile a mild shake, and when that didn't work he placed his hat on the ground and used both his hands to awaken his sleeping friend.

"Wake up, I made something," he said loudly. Doflamingo backed up when a hand made a swing at him, just barely missing his face.

"Leave me alone!" Crocodile groaned. He turned his head and glared at the blonde boy.

"Look, look," Doflamingo pestered. He picked up his messy paper hat and practically shoved it into Crocodile's face. "I made you a pirate hat!"

Crocodile squint his eyes and wiped his face, trying to see through adjusting eyes. "What?" he asked.

Doflamingo offered the hat up to Crocodile. "It's a hat! I made it. It has the skeleton head on it, see?"

The older boy grumbled, but took the hat from Doflamingo, raising it up and examining the work put into it. He yawned. "Your skull has no nose," he muttered. No skulls had noses, but both of them knew what he had meant.

Doflamingo shrugged. "I forgot," he said.

Crocodile lightly held on to the hat, making the occasional glance over at Doflamingo, saying nothing more. Looking back, it was pretty obvious that the hat was shit. He had folded over and over, leaving the structure frail and the look crumbled. But little Crocodile's silence and refusal to continue to negatively remark the hat's flaws struck a very powerful chord _right now_.

"Do you like it?" Doflamingo asked. He moved up close with his hands resting on Crocodile's legs, his face unbearably close to his. The boy looked at the eager child, then back at the hat.

"It's ok," Crocodile murmured, looking down at the misshaped object in his hand.

"Wear it," Doflamingo commanded. Before he could protest the smaller boy yanked the hat away and adorned it on the confused Crocodile's head where it lay for a few seconds before slipping off. As soon as it hit the grass Doflamingo picked it up and carefully replaced the crumbling hat back on Crocodile's head, making sure to adjust it so that it wouldn't fall again.

Crocodile couldn't see what he looked like with the horrible constructed ornament on him, but must have assumed he looked as stupid as the hat did because no sooner did Doflamingo sit back did his face go red from embarrassment. But none of this really mattered because Doflamingo remembered that he kept the damn thing on. Crocodile would stiffly lower his face, avoiding all eye contact from Doflamingo's younger self, but didn't remove the strange article. Especially not after hearing Doflamingo's praises.

"You're a pirate captain," Doflamingo said.

"Captain," Crocodile murmured through his hidden face. He raised his head a bit, revealing some of his pinked face before going back to his previous uncomfortable demeanor.

"Just like in your pictures," Doflamingo added. "Now you're captain of the pirates." He laughed and moved up close to Crocodile, who then proceeded to attempt to move away from Doflamingo. "See, we bury treasure and steal. And you drawed the ship and the coins and stuff."

"Uh-huh…" Crocodile replied. He plucked the hat from his head and stared at it again, and while doing this Doflamingo once again got extremely close to the older boy, waiting for him to further compliment the gift he made. It was a terribly uncomfortable situation for both of them. Even though he was only six Doflamingo could detect the strain coming from the older child, and not knowing why Crocodile couldn't respond positively to his craftwork, he assumed the worse and frowned, letting his hands tuck in between his legs and his fingers dig into the soft soil.

"You don't like it."

Crocodile turned and shook his head. "I didn't say that," he said.

"You don't look like you like it," Doflamingo pointed out. Of course, Crocodile lacked the skills necessary to explain how the gift had made him feel, as terrible and crappy as it was. Doflamingo knew now that the boy appreciated the gesture, especially since no one really knew the fantasies and passions he held as a child, and though it was embarrassing to have to open up to another person, Doflamingo knew Crocodile enjoyed it to some extent. But the child staring at Crocodile right at that moment knew absolutely nothing, was still too selfish to see beyond the games they played.

"I…like it," Crocodile finally murmured, only after hunching over and raising his shoulders to the point where his shoulders matched up with his reddened ears.

"Really?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yesss," Crocodile hissed. He raised his head up and shoved the hat back on his head, the force being enough to tear at the back of it. "See, I'm wearing it," he said, pointing up at the lopsided hat while he kept it up with his left hand. Doflamingo watched with fascination as Crocodile forced a grin on his face. It was awkward to look at since the boy had never tried to appease anyone before in such a manner, but somehow this horrific looking gesture had won Doflamingo over. "I like the hat. I really do."

Doflamingo swayed his head to the side and smiled. "Will you wear it all the time?"

"It tore," Crocodile responded, pulling the hat off and showing the ridden backside.

"Oh," Doflamingo said. He let a hand rest over the ripped section and then turned to Crocodile, somewhat dismayed. "You can't be captain without the hat."

Crocodile sighed. "That's ok," he said, "I don't think I'd just want to be captain anyway."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I want something more than just that," Crocodile answered while playing with the torn edges of the hat. He smiled, for real this time, and said, "There's a lot of things I'd like to be, you know?"

"Yeah," Doflamingo answered. He looked over at the playground that he had grown bored of previously, and then back at Crocodile, who was now awake and couldn't possibly fall asleep after this. "Let's play in the desert before I have to go."

"Ok," Crocodile muttered, standing up and collecting his things while Doflamingo continued to stare at the crumbled hat in the boys hands.

"Did you have money you wanted to bury?" he asked.

"Not today," the older boy answered. Doflamingo gave a short nod before gazing down at his hands, remembering that forced expression Crocodile made a few minutes ago. Why was it that hard, and why did it upset him so much when he couldn't get the reaction he wanted? Doflamingo sucked the saliva in his mouth and swallowed, growing more frustrated when he couldn't come up with the answer.

"Come on already," Crocodile said. He grabbed Doflamingo by the upper arm and yanked him up. "You need to stop daydreaming."

"Ok," Doflamingo muttered. He followed Crocodile, trying to pay attention to something else than the strange anger that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Crocodile must have been aware that something was off. But being the child he was he had no idea what that annoying little brat was upset about, and figured Doflamingo was still caught up on the hat ordeal.

"Hey," Doflamingo heard Crocodile say. He hurried up and aligned himself with Crocodile. The older boy eyed him with his usual bored stared and then sighed. "Thanks," he said. Doflamingo stared back with a blank expression, surprised by this sudden change, and Crocodile groan aloud, exasperated from his weakened dose of Doflamingo.

"Thank. You." Crocodile said loudly. The hat in right hand began to fall apart as it was exposed to nervous, sweaty palms.

Doflamingo grinned from ear to ear. "Your welcome," he said. If Crocodile weren't so clearly irritated with him Doflamingo would have dove in for an attempted hug, but didn't want to risk the cold rejection of being pushed away. This feeling right now was good enough.

* * *

Compliments and Criticism appreciated.


	3. Death Lurks Inside the Pupils

AN-Sorry for the wait. This chapter was really difficult to write. I do hope it does its job in being not just an excellent read, but does it in a respectable matter as well. Updates for my other stories coming up soon.

Death Lurks Inside the Pupils

**-Then-**

He had not shown up Friday afternoon. And when Doflamingo returned on Saturday, everything was as he had left it, with the eleven year old still missing from this world. And on Sunday, after spending a majority of the day nervously meandering around his house, hesitant to travel the long distance out of fear of being rejected by the older boy's sudden disappearance, Doflamingo, eight years old and feeling for the first time in his life that sudden creeping in his heart, stared at the cruel sight of an empty desert, his head slowly lowering down to the shallow ditch that had been dug up not too long ago, the unforgiving sight of treasure no longer buried, leaving only an empty shoebox cast aside, the top half having been captured by the dry wind.

Something terrible happened.

* * *

**-Now-**

It was happening again. Doflamingo had let his mind wander into a memory that had not been successfully repressed, and now, underneath the cloudy skies filled with gulls, he felt the same heave in his heart that made him sense that death was just around the corner. He fondled his pockets and groaned into his throat at the realization that he had left with no pair of sunglasses to hide behind. He felt a scowl grow on his face as he hurried past the figures of laughing beachgoers, their shrill cries of excitement making him sick to his stomach, their bright colored bikinis and short coming off as more obnoxious than anything else, their happiness driving him insane. Had they nothing better to do that run around all day at a stupid beach, wasting their lives away when they could be doing something more with themselves? Everyone was so unproductive.

He wasn't sure why he had thought going to the beach was a good idea to begin with. He had only spent maybe half an hour their before the feeling of perpetual guilt, the memories of falling into a deep, dark, mental abyss, took over and reminded him why he was here in the first place. Doflamingo had nearly forgotten that the beachside apartment, the wonderful Californian weather, and the magnificent view of the ocean were a temporary prison for him to endure till he completed his task. But after that half hour he remembered why he had done all of this, and after realizing that he had done hardly a thing the past three days since meeting Vergo, Doflamingo concluded that he had done the worse possible thing.

Staring at the ocean was a waste of time. He could stare at it later, once everything was completed, and once he had someone to share the view with.

Doflamingo continued uphill till he reached the familiar white foundation, one corner missing some of the white plaster and exposing an older, orangey bricklayer. Surrounding the apartment building was enough wild mint to nearly cover the smell of salt water, but Doflamingo new better than to let a plant hide away his punishment. Being lucky enough to live on the bottom floor, Doflamingo walked through the giant patch of wild herb and jumped right into his patio. Although he couldn't see the ocean from the patio, it still had a lovely…charm to it, the sort of thing you could only find in southern California. He couldn't wait for the day he could be free from work and take the time to decorate the place.

Doflamingo opened the sliding door, and, whilst closing it, eyed the phone that had been tossed on the couch two hours prior. He carefully walked across the small apartment, avoiding messy stacks of paper, books, clothing, and collected trinkets that had been placed wherever there was available space. _Crocodile will know where to place everything_, Doflamingo would often tell himself as he added another something to his temporary hoard.

He picked up the phone and felt his heart palpitate as his mind raced back to just a few years ago, the tight, firm grip belonging to death now on his shoulders, whispering fault right into his ears. He had one message. Doflamingo landed on the couch with a heavy thud, cradling the phone in his large hand while leaning over to the small table in front of him, tossing aside some notes he had worked on the night before and unearthing the flashing answering machine.

He knew who left the message, and seeing that he had taken the time to actually leave one behind was a warning to the tall blonde of his other failure from earlier this morning. It was a difficult thing, gathering information from Mihawk, and Doflamingo was rather sure of himself that this message left for him was the brooding man's way of reminding him that it wasn't possible to collect valuable detail from him, especially since he _apparently_ had none to give. But Doflamingo knew this to be complete bullshit, knowing better than to believe what Mihawk would have to say. He had heard the truth a little over a year ago…he had heard him say it aloud, drunk, weary, and miserable: the absolute truth.

But Doflamingo went ahead and pressed the flashing button, allowing Mihawk the time he deserved to have his say. Even though the man would have the advantage of being a message that couldn't be argued with, the sobriety that would assure him the ability to lie through his tongue, and the time necessary to say just about whatever he needed in order to shift the blame on Doflamingo. He took a deep breath and relaxed himself, staring up at the ceiling and counting the cracks as the message began:

"I see you finally remembered I live in New York…"

"Shit," Doflamingo muttered. He chuckled nervously, shaking his head disapprovingly at his terrible memory.

"…But that's not the reason you called. Of course, it never is." There was a short pause, the proof Doflamingo needed to justify that this one sided exchange between a man and a message was pointless. "You already know what I'm about to tell you, Doflamingo."

"You don't know where he is," Doflamingo scoffed.

"I don't know where he is," Mihawk's voice rang through the machine. "And I haven't seen him since–"

"–the last time we were all together," Doflamingo finished loudly, cancelling the sound of Mihawk's overly calm, monotone, annoying, lying-piece-of-shit voice. "Yada-yada, whatever."

"Look, it's almost October, and if you'd like I–" Doflamingo pressed the delete button, erasing the rest of the message. He'd have to try again later, when the man was less sober, unprepared to be properly interrogated.

Doflamingo held on tightly to the phone, considering whether he ought to try once more today before waiting another month or so to call Mihawk again. Approaching him face to face wouldn't work. Doflamingo couldn't even begin to imagine the things he'd do to Mihawk if he ever saw him in person. The man was a liar. He was keeping the most important thing away from him, and all the money he had saved up would mean nothing if he couldn't use it on what he desired most. Doflamingo moved his hand upward, feeling the antenna poke his chin and slide up his face. He continued to look up at the ceiling, ignoring his organized mess as he let his mind turn attention to his previous plans.

He had to think of a way to make more money. Even with all the funds he had made the previous year the amount in his savings account was still only in the five digits. Yes, it was more than what most twenty-something-year-olds had, but it wasn't enough for what he needed. He still couldn't afford Crocodile.

Cocaine was…decent, the middle of the ladder when it came to most drugs, a stepping stone to harder, darker things. It was the drug someone took when they were tired of the nicotine and high, but was too afraid to commit to things like meth or ecstasy. It was a cop-out drug, and a lot of people were willing to give the supposedly safer drug a hit or two before moving on to the next things. It was this very reason Caesar wanted to cook something stronger, but also the same reason Doflamingo picked it over anything else. He wanted a nice, steady flow of customers that would become addicted and buy from him for as long possible. Caesar only saw the money and ill effects of being addicted to a poison that could very well kill you after one hit.

Until recently Doflamingo didn't mind the smaller paychecks.

Now he had to think how he was going to run two different businesses. Vergo was off taking endurance tests in order to sell inside bases across the country, and Caesar was...doing whatever the hell Caesar did. Doflamingo felt comfortable with the two of them working in the drug business, and he didn't want to risk their well-being in order to help build up this new one, so he would have to find another few heads to help him work his black market.

But where to start?

Doflamingo raised his head and peered over the coffee table, staring at the notes he had written earlier in the morning. He sat himself upright and carefully leaned over the table, trying to grab the messy pile he had created without actually getting up from his seat. He made a few attempts at this before moving off the couch and resting halfway on the table, grabbing several of the sheets and falling right back into his seat. He read quietly at the scribbles he had made in a less sober state, taking in the wisdom of the few eligible lines that he could make out.

"I need a woman," he muttered to himself. Someone who could lure ignorant people into his trap? Someone who could attract both men and women? Someone with a nice, trustworthy disposition that no one would ever suspect was a criminal? Definitely a woman.

Doflamingo let the other sheets in his hand fall over his body as he continued to read his notes. She needed to be young, perhaps younger than him, but not younger than Violet otherwise he'd risk ending up on the offenders list. She would need to know, or would have to commit to learning, more than two other languages, perhaps Spanish and Chinese since they were the next two popular languages, in order to gather in more unsuspecting goods. She needed to be smart, but obedience was a must. Most importantly, she needed to be able to fit the role of a secretary, because most of what he had written was very hard to read, and Doflamingo didn't have the time to learn how to properly use a keyboard.

Doflamingo pondered for a few moments on the limitations of finding such a person in such a short time. He turned and stared at the pile of clothes that took up the other half of the couch and began to claw at it, tossing the mixture of clean and unclean articles all over the room as he dug through it in hopes of finding his laptop that he had "lost" several days prior (An organized mess! He really did know where everything was.) . Finally, Doflamingo pulled from the remaining pile a long cord, his charger. He carefully tugged at it, letting his hand travel across it before feeling the smooth top of his personal PC. He yanked the laptop free from its prison and opened it up, smiling gleefully when he was able to turn the thing on.

He could think of only one place where he could get whatever, or whomever he wanted without having to try too hard. Of course, with great privileges come terrifying risks. Doflamingo typed in the name of the site on his search bar, silently praying to God that he wouldn't end up catching the eyes of a bunch of weirdoes like he had the last time he had put up a personal ad. He knew he had no right to complain; Craigslist did give him Caesar after all.

He closed his laptop right before it died and, still retaining his smirk, got up from the couch and headed to his room. He carried his laptop with him, finding the first electric outlet located in the hallways, and left his device to gather energy for later use.

He was starting to feel better already. Being productive was such a wonderful thing!

Doflamingo went right into his closet and began to pick through the clothes that hung in the crowded space. He needed to wear something bright, something that would bring a permanent smile on his face for the rest of the day.

Doflamingo pulled out a long sleeved shirt from his array and threw it on the bed, giving one last stare into his messy wardrobe before settling with his choice. As he was about to undress he noticed something stand out in the corner of his eye, stopping him from what he was doing and drawing him to the dresser's mirror. He walked over and looked above the mirror, purposely avoiding his own reflection, and rested his gaze at the sunglasses that lay crookedly on top.

_Why would I leave it here_, he thought. He raised his arm and carefully removed the shades, bringing them to his chest before observing the colorful plastic, checking for any new signs of scratches. He stared at his distorted reflection, the true reality, and watched his eyes begin to shake and twitch with emotion.

It was getting to that point. Doflamingo knew he needed to fix himself up before completing all his goals. These long nights injecting himself with caffeine and stimulants, leaving him up all day and night, but leaving him very little conscious time to actually get anything important done, were beginning to take its toll on him. His mind supposedly ran better when it was at its most fragile state, but waking up without a clue to what had occurred prior was a stressful consequence. These sunglasses were important, one of a kind.

He needed to be careful. He needed to take better care of his things. It's hard to replace something once it was broken, hard to find something that is lost…lost out there, in the great, big world, alive…but!

Doflamingo rested his hand on the dresser, watching his reflection place the sunglasses on their respected spot, covering his weakened eyes with the intense orange spectacles that glimmered alongside his growing smile. He continued to stare at this familiar copy, the figure that he could relate to in this particular form, and as he felt a warm embrace within his chest, that strange looming guilt still clung around the air in his room, constantly reminding him of his past mistakes, the limitations of time, and that small chance that the world he currently fought against wasn't even real.

_Oh, what if_, he thought, _what…if Mihawk was right?_

He immediately pushed the thought aside, telling himself over and over again that such a thing couldn't be, but found it rather difficult to keep his head up, his posture confident, his smile on as he continued to reassure himself.

Doflamingo grabbed the shirt from the bed, letting the fabric wrinkle his constricted grasp as he let himself go and stare up into space. He viewed the world through colorful lenses for just a second, letting his guard lower, closing his eyes only after feeling his heart break and crumble under the stress of actions he couldn't undo, lips closing shut, the mind traveling far back to show him the signs he should have memorized as warnings.

What on earth was he to do with himself?

* * *

**-Then-**

The note Doflamingo had left underneath a small pile of rocks was gone. Last Sunday had been such a disappointment to him, but even though he was young and selfish, the boy had somehow managed to take a logical approach to the situation. Rather than getting too upset over the loss of the weekend, he had decided to try to reach out to the lost eleven year old, hoping to find out why he had wasted three days coming over to the desert and finding nothing. _And yet you arrived so early._

The note was gone, but there was still no Crocodile, and when Doflamingo thought about it more, he realized that just because the note had been taken didn't necessarily mean that the right person had found it, read it. He couldn't imagine who else would have traveled so far out here in the middle of May, when the giants rocks reached temperatures of over 00 degrees, and the sand burned the flesh of anyone who wasn't careful enough.

Admittedly Doflamingo worried that this might have happened. He had left the note late Sunday afternoon, promising to return not in Friday, but instead on Saturday, hoping that maybe Crocodile would return Friday, find no one, and feel the same dread the boy had placed on him for three days. Since there was no one waiting for him Doflamingo had no choice but to assume the worse, after all: Crocodile gave no home address, never spoke of home or his family, and would sometimes grow anxious when the younger boy tried to bring it up. There had been some suspicions growing in the back of Doflamingo's mind for a long time. He knew from conversations brought up at school that sometimes parents hurt their children, or parents would argue with each other in front of their kids, not realizing what they were doing was traumatizing to the young witnesses. Hell, on one occasion a police officer visited his class and talked about the rare, taboo occasion of parents or other family members engaging in "bad touching" with a child.

Doflamingo sucked the spit to the back of his throat, wondering if, perhaps, this was why Crocodile had not appeared. Maybe he was being hurt by a family member, and could not leave the house for some related reason?

The boy looked around the dry scenery, the back of his neck burning from the harsh sunlight, as he wondered how he should approach such a situation. There was little he could do but hope that the letter he had left last Sunday was in fact picked up by the older boy. Doflamingo removed his backpack and threw it on the ground, feeling bitter and hopeless, pulled out a spiraled journal and a pencil, and, growing all the more upset, began to write.

He spent only a few minutes writing out his fears, advice, and pleas before forcing himself up on his weak, shaking legs and walking over to the piled of rocks that once hid a box full of stolen allowances, lunch money, and a promise to leave this town. He laid the paper flat and visible, placing only one rock on top of the sheet. If Crocodile returned this would be the first thing he would see once he made his way down the hills.

Doflamingo quietly made his way back into the neighborhood, reflecting hard on his short life and how awful it was that he was so young and had little control over these sorts of things. He wanted nothing more than to impress the older boy with his accomplishments: winning fights and arguments at school, getting away with said arguments and fights at school, becoming tougher, stronger, biking over to the neighborhood instead of taking a bus, learning how to take what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and so on. What was going on? Where was Crocodile? Would Doflamingo go to being alone in this boring world again?

He slide down the large mound of sand and walked over to the house closest to the desert, pulling out the key to the lock that tied his bike to the gate. After dusting off his clothes, Doflamingo rode off.

His mind continued to wander aimlessly as he passed by rows of houses, making the occasional glance at each building in hopes of spotting a familiar face. He had never really thought about his relationship with Crocodile in a long term way. Two years and not once did Doflamingo ever wonder what would happen once they stopped hanging out together. The very thought stung his heart with something he couldn't describe, it made him feel nauseous and weak, made his eyes burn with wetness and fury.

Doflamingo made a sharp right, cutting across the neighborhood through the small park located at the very center. He slowed himself down, allowing himself better, safer access through the drying grass. As he passed the playground Doflamingo detected a stiff, dark movement in the corner of his eyes, and almost instinctively knowing who it was, turned his head, his legs halting and brining him to rough break.

The older boy stared back at him, eyes wide, but mouth his barely open, his left hand holding a folded sheet of paper, his right hand holding something in between his index finger and thumb.

Doflamingo felt a rush of relief fill his body.

"Crocodile," the boy called.

The older boy remained still. As Doflamingo moved in closer he could make out peculiar features that made him stand out more than usual. His hair wasn't pulled back, leaving several of his long bangs across his pale face, speaking of which; his face appeared almost colorless, his lips practically indistinguishable. It was hot, but the boy wore a dark flannel shirt over his regular clothing. There was nothing on his person. Once the younger boy was within a few feet from him, Doflamingo caught the quick flashed movement of something small dropping out of Crocodile's right hand, falling into the grass and disappearing from sight.

Doflamingo couldn't care less about the small "thing" that fell, focusing his attention on the older boy that had neglected him for three days. But he did see that there was something off about the boy, his paler than normal complexion being the most worrisome of all the signs.

"Are you ok?" he asked. He let his bike fall as he attempted to reach out and touch Crocodile. The boy backed away, using his free hand as a deterrent to Doflamingo's. The boy pulled his arm back, feeling more nervous as he watched Crocodile carefully tuck folded sheet of paper, which was thick and full of something dark, into his back pocket.

"Why didn't you show up?" Doflamingo asked.

"I wasn't feeling well," the boy answered.

"Are you sick?" he asked.

"You came early," the boy muttered. He turned away from Doflamingo, looking over his shoulder as though he were afraid someone might be watching. "You never come this early."

"I was worried," Doflamingo answered.

"Worried? About what?" there was something terribly cruel in his shaky voice, but Doflamingo did everything in his power to ignore it.

"You," Doflamingo said. His face tickled with unwanted heat. He watched Crocodile; still looking away from him, pull in his lips, closing his eyes, hearing his breath become loud and uneven. But he didn't cry. Crocodile never seemed to cry. Without a warning Doflamingo grabbed the older boys hand, his body shaking as he saw the older boy nearly jump from the sudden contact.

"What's wrong," Doflamingo asked. "Why are you acting so strange?"

Crocodile struggled to free his hand from the younger boy's grasp, but his strength wasn't at his best today. No, he was certainly weaker than normal. There was something wrong, but Doflamingo couldn't begin to guess what it was.

"I'm just not feeling good," Crocodile answered. "Just go back home." The cruelness that had tried to push Doflamingo away was gone and replaced with something shaky and weak, alerting the younger child that his worries were justified.

"Let me take you home," Doflamingo beckoned, tugging Crocodile closer towards him. "Please, I know you wanna keep it a secret…"

Somehow Crocodile managed to free himself once he heard Doflamingo offer his plea to help him, and the boy got to see, for the first time, a real look of fear on his face once he had brought up that forbidden subject.

"No!" Crocodile yelled. "I'm not going back there."

"Why not?"

Crocodile shook his head, covering his face with his arm. Doflamingo lurched forward, hoping to catch the sign of tears or sounds of whimpering, but was welcomed with silence.

Finally, Crocodile answered, "I'm not going back."

"But you don't feel good," Doflamingo argued. He looked down at the ground and tried to find whatever Crocodile had let fall from his hand. No sooner had he began to stare downward, Crocodile removed his arm and began to grow agitated.

"What are you doing?" he heard the older boy ask in an accusatory tone.

Doflamingo looked up at Crocodile, "You dropped something."

"So?" the boy asked.

Doflamingo wasn't used to this. Never had he experienced this side of the boy before. There was never a time before where Crocodile was so...frightened. But of what? Being sick? That couldn't possibly be it. Maybe he was being hurt; maybe that's why he refused to go home, even in his current state.

He looked down at the grass, then back at the older boy. "I don't want to leave you," he whined, allowing his voice to break right at the end.

"…Medicine," Crocodile answered.

"Medicine?" he asked.

Crocodile nodded his head, a small smile appearing on his pale face. "It was medicine. I'm sick, but I'll be ok." He folded his arm, but not before trying to fix his messy hair, and then proceeded to calm himself down. "I'm ok. I'm just...a little upset." He moved in front of Doflamingo, bending his legs just a little so that the two would make eye contact with one another.

And they did. Oh, what a mistake that was on Crocodile's part. He though he could fool the boy with his usual tricks, but after witnessing everything that had happened the past several minutes, Doflamingo knew better than to believe Crocodile, so when he did look into those gorgeous eyes he saw something that he had never saw before, and considering all those previous opportunities when he was lucky enough to stare into those eyes, and understanding that he was staring at the same person who really hadn't undergone some new change in his life, Doflamingo could help but feel ashamed of himself.

"Go home, Doflamingo," Crocodile said. "Come back next Friday."

"What about you?" Doflamingo asked, his eyes still locked into the deep void. "You didn't take your medicine."

Crocodile chuckled, so slow, so soft; it made Doflamingo shiver.

"I took enough," he said. "I'll be ok."

Doflamingo forced a smiled. "Why don't you stay with me? You can sleep over."

"Next time, I promise," Crocodile replied. It sounded like a lie.

"Please," Doflamingo cried.

Crocodile frowned. "Next time."

"Please, please," Doflamingo begged. "You can't stay out. You didn't bring anything with you. You'll get thirsty, and you wont have anything to drink. When you're sick you're supposed to drink lots of stuff." Doflamingo once again latched on to Crocodile, wrapping his thin arms around the boy's slim body, half his face buried in clothing that was strangely cool, the other half peering up at a now uncomfortable looking child.

"I can't go," Crocodile whispered. Doflamingo felt Crocodile's arms jerks, his stomach making a strange sound. Crocodile looked paler.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, looking up with fright.

"No," Crocodile lied. Doflamingo eased his grasp on the older child. Crocodile didn't push him away this time. The young blonde took a step back and held on to Crocodile's hand, feeling himself grow calm when he pulled and the older boy, despite his lethargic state, move forward. Doflamingo would have treated this as a victory, but then heard a soft hiccup from the boy and turned to see Crocodile fighting tears.

"What's wrong?" Doflamingo asked, already forgetting the pointless attempt he had made just before.

But this time Crocodile answered, red eyed, voice shaking from frustration. "You're making things harder…"

* * *

Some time in between the bus ride home and sneaking past security and into the neighborhood filled with two, three story houses that all looked the same, Crocodile's condition deteriorated and Doflamingo began to worry over how he would make his dear friend feel any better.

Crocodile, lying silently on Doflamingo's messy bed, refused any food that was offered to him; even the candy that Doflamingo charmed the maid to give him was ignored and treated with disdain. Doflamingo had no sweet drinks that the older boy would drink, and Crocodile wouldn't even try to drink the juice and milk he had brought up. It was odd, but then again Doflamingo wasn't all that hungry himself, the strange predicament he was in had stolen his appetite.

"Want to play with the Nintendo?" Doflamingo asked.

Crocodile shook his head, curling himself and wrapping his arms around his shaking legs. He stared at Doflamingo, and then past Doflamingo, thinking about something for a few mintues while the child waited patiently for him to speak, then blinking a few times before finally admitting, "I need water."

"Water?" Doflamingo repeated. "You sure?" Water was boring, had no taste. He had never even seen Crocodile drink water before.

"Mhmm," Crocodile answered.

Doflamingo rushed down the stairs for the umpteenth time, skipping past the maid who didn't seem to notice the boy's strange behavior, giving the large living room window a quick glance to assure that his mother's car wasn't parked, and then hurried into the kitchen to get the water. When he returned Crocodile's eyes were closed, his legs, though somewhat tucked in, were freed and his arms now holding on to his lower stomach. Doflamingo dropped to his knees, placed the water carefully on the floor, and gave Crocodile a rough shake.

The boy slowly opened his eyes. Whatever was there before was gone; his eyes were showing new signs of life, but Doflamingo wasn't going to forget what he had seen before.

He smiled. "I got water," he said, lifting the glass and offering it to the boy. Crocodile forced himself up and took the glass, making a snide remark on how Doflamingo chose to fill it all the way to the top, causing some of it to spill on his jeans, but then finally drank from the glass. Doflamingo watched with interest as Crocodile closed his eyes and forced the entire drink down his throat, taking a deep breath when he finally finished. He handed the glass back to Doflamingo while his left hand held on to his stomach. His arms were very shaky.

"Where's your bathroom?" he asked. He took another deep breath and stared at the empty glass. "I'm going to need more water."

Doflamingo lead Crocodile quietly down the hall, making sure the creeks of the wood flooring weren't too loud to attract attention. Once he showed the boy the entrance to the restroom Doflamingo went back downstairs to refill the glass, feeling better about the situation now that Crocodile was drinking something. When he came back up he noticed the door to the bathroom was still closed, and the bathroom light on, so he went back to his room and waited, leaving the glass on top of his messy dresser drawer.

He walked around his room, picking some of his neglected toys from the floor and finding a respectable place for them to be hidden until Crocodile was well enough to leave. He had always hoped the boy would come over his place, but all of this was so sudden that he felt some embarrassment at the current state of his room. Doflamingo went over to his bed and attempted to make it up, stopping midway when he heard the door to his room open.

"Where did you put the glass?" Crocodile asked. Doflamingo was surprised to see that Crocodile looked worse than he had previously before entering the restroom. His face was flushed and his whole body seemed to shake. He pointed to the dresser and watched the boy take the glass and, like before, consume the entire drink in one sitting.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked. "Do you need more water?"

"I'm fine," Crocodile said. He placed the glass back on the dresser and then sat himself back on the bed. Doflamingo crawled closer to the older boy till they sat only inches from each other.

"Crocodile?"

"What?"

"Can I ask you a question?" Doflamingo muttered.

Crocodile shrugged. "Fine."

"Do you hate your home?"

Crocodile sighed. "Is that why you think I'm here with you?"

"No…it's just that you're sick, but you wont go home," Doflamingo said. "Are your parents mean to you? Is it bad there?"

"No," Crocodile said, staring at the television littered with wire from all the consoles that were attached to the bottom of it. "It's different. You're too young to understand. "

"You don't trust me," Doflamingo corrected.

"It doesn't matter," Crocodile said. "I'll have to go home now, and I'll probably get in trouble." He clasped his hands together and covered his face. "Everything is ruined. You should have just left me alone."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" Crocodile asked.

"Because you're my best friend," Doflamingo answered hesitantly.

"…oh."

"It's scary," Doflamingo said. "What if I left you, and you're sick, and you have nothing with you, and…and what if you ended up dead?" He wiped at his face before the older boy could see him tear up, not wanting to diminish any more respect he had lost today. "That's really stupid, going out when it's really hot, in all those clothes, with nothing to drink. And you're sick. Why would you do that?"

Crocodile stood up and headed out the room without saying a word to Doflamingo. The younger boy took the time offered to him and tried to calm himself down. Oh, it was just so scary. What would he do if he lost Crocodile?

The boy returned with a flushed face, wiping his mouth and staggering back to the bed. Doflamingo wanted to continue to reprimand the boy, but felt his pain immediately fade once Crocodile fell upon the bed, looking more tired than ever. The bed that he had tried to make up was then wrinkled as the boy kicked off his chucks and covered his cold body with the top sheet, wrapping himself up tight and covering most of his face.

"You're cold?" Doflamingo asked, confused. It was hot. It made no sense.

"Very," the boy answered.

"Your breath smells funny," Doflamingo pointed out. "Like pennies and sour stuff."

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"For making you worry," Crocodile muttered, moving the sheets around him and covering the rest of his face. "I just wish you hadn't shown up."

"That's mean."

"That's the truth," the boy whispered. He rolled over, resting on his stomach. "I hate this."

"What do you hate?" Doflamingo asked.

"Everything," his answer muffled through the sheets.

"Do you hate me?" _No._

The sheets moved. "No."

The boy remained sitting, watching the movement beginning to dwindle as Crocodile began to rest. It wasn't that hard, he didn't want to talk to the older boy anymore, and Crocodile's silence reassured him that the older boy preferred not to speak either. After ten minutes of keeping still, Doflamingo was welcomed with the calm, rhythmic sound of a sleeping beauty.

He almost forgot how upset he had been when he crawled closer to that resting body, watching the rising sheets with every inhale, how they shielded Crocodile from the rest of the world. It was strange, very strange, because as Doflamingo stared at this rolled up cocoon all he could think about was how "funny" it would be if he tried to peel away the layers cloaking the older boy. Not the just the bed cover or the sheets, but also other things as well. He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to see from Crocodile, just that there was this urge to keep the boy in his barest form, and have it all in such a way that the two of them, but mostly Doflamingo, would be happy. That "funny" feeling continued to tickle him till it reached a lower, more sacred spot, causing Doflamingo to silently panic and push these "funny" ideas out of his head. It didn't stop him from getting all the more closer though. The boy rested himself next to Crocodile, his small hands reaching out and moving away some of the covering.

Crocodile no longer looked flushed. He touched the boy's cheek. It wasn't so cold. The water must have really helped.

_And wouldn't it be funny if you kissed him on the lips? Like the adults do? _

Doflamingo answered this thought with a hushed "no," telling himself that was impossible to do since only boys and girls kissed each other like that. Even as he closed his eyes the terrible fantasy played in his head over and over, making the act of falling asleep a terrible chore.

* * *

It was the heat that got Doflamingo to wake up, late in the afternoon. He saw that he was being covered with the sheets, which told him that sometime during his sleep Crocodile must have decided to share. He sat up, stretching his arms and looking over to his left, spotting Crocodile still resting next to him, though his back was now facing him. He didn't look the same as he did before. He was still pale, but didn't look so bad. He wasn't shivering anymore, and he was warm.

Doflamingo yawned. He looked over to the mass of games he had offered Crocodile to play with him hours before and decided to do that while he waited for the older boy to reawaken. Maybe once Crocodile woke up he'd be in a better mood to play, assuming he still wasn't too sick to play. Doflamingo pulled his legs closer to him, feeling something brush against his leg. He moved the sheets aside and stared at two round, red pills_. Iron._ He picked each one up and continued to canvas the bed, finding another right next to the opening of Crocodile's back pockets. _Iron pills_.

He stared at the small red pills, amused at how they resembled something like candy, and almost felt compelled to give it one a quick lick before remembering that it may have been a while since Crocodile last took one. He did recall him saying that he had taken a lot of pills beforehand, but Doflamingo chose to be safe and decided to risk a smack and wake the older boy.

"Crocodile," Doflamingo said, grabbing the shoulder poking though the blue blankets. He skin was warm to the touch now: it made Doflamingo smile. "Hey, Crocodile, wake up."

The boy groaned, pushing sheets away and welcoming Doflamingo with a threatening glance. But once both eyes were open Doflamingo offered his hand to Crocodile, exposing the three red pills to his face.

"Your medicine," Doflamingo said, smiling at the boy whose eyes were locked on to the small, round–_deadly_–pills. "You need to take your medicine so you'll get better."

Crocodile's stared into Doflamingo's palm, his mouth opening as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out as he then looked down, lowering his head slowly, looking away from Doflamingo as his arm reached out and took the "medicine" from Doflamingo.

"Thank you," he muttered._ You've failed._

Doflamingo grinned. "Do you want some more water?"

_You're alive._

* * *

Questions? Compliments? Complaints?

Reviews will be appreciated!


	4. The First Pair and No More Pirates

-Part 1-

The First Pair and No More Pirates

**-Then-**

Although the shoebox was still left open and empty Doflamingo remained calm as he passed by the neglected remnants of Crocodile's buried treasure, making his way further into the desert where some large rocks lay. He pulled the sleeves of his school uniform up, letting the heat prickle against his light skin, as to not let himself get _too _dirty. Although his mother never had to clean she always found ways to complain about his less than sterile lifestyle.

From a distance he could make out a figure that was sitting against one of the larger boulders, hiding underneath the bit of shade that the dessert offered. A small smile crept it's way on to Dolfamingo's face as he hurried over to the heated landmarks, kicking up sand and allowing it to rest on his uniform.

Doflamingo stopped several feet away from Crocodile, letting the dust cloud around him fall as to not get any on the older boy. He hastily dusted himself down and walked the rest of the way, noting that the boy sitting on the shaded sand was not looking his way, but instead either wring or drawing in his notebook. He also noticed that, although Crocodile did have drinks with him, his backpack was missing. It was strange, especially since it was a Friday, but at the very least Crocodile was appropriately prepared for the harsh weather.

He stopped just inches in front of the older boy. "You're here!"

Crocodile didn't look up, but continued to work in his spiraled notebook. Doflamingo could see a twitch at the ends of the boy's lips.

"Hey," he said.

Crocodile frowned, refusing to respond.

"…are you ignoring me?" Doflamingo asked, leaning to a squat and pouting at the boy. Crocodile's refusal to answer hinted this was the case and Doflamingo bit his lower lip in offense, bringing himself up and taking a step back.

"What did I do?!" he whined.

Of course there was no response other than Crocodile pressing his pencil against the notebook with noticeable force.

"You can't ignore me forever!" Doflamingo complained. He waited a few seconds before quickly adding, "It's not fair. I didn't even do anything!"

Crocodile didn't bother to look up at him, only continuing to draw in his notebook and silently pretend the younger boy wasn't there.

"Did you get into trouble?" Doflamingo asked; leaning in close and purposely letting his warm breath hit the boy's head. "Huhhhh?"

Crocodile's eyes peered up, making brief contact with Doflamingo's before the boy uttered a low growl, lowering his head further from the boy.

Doflamingo whined again, this time kicking the sand in front of Crocodile, risking an attack from the older boy as he continued to pester him into speaking. He watched Crocodile throw his notebook to the side and wave his arms about, trying to push away the cloud of hot dust from his face. Doflamingo hoped to get some verbal response from Crocodile, but was instead met with the hard impact of a half filled can of Coke. He fell to the ground, hissing and holding in another whine as he wiped his forehead covered in soda. He looked down at his uniform and stared dismayed at the brown stain on his shirt.

"What the hell!" Doflamingo groaned. He pulled himself back up and ran towards Crocodile, reaching out and grabbing several long, violet locks and pulling them roughly, forcing Crocodile's face right into his Coke stained shirt.

"Heyyy!" Crocodile yelled, smacking Doiflamingo's sides and he attempted to free himself from Doflamingo's grasp. Doflamingo held on tight, only pulling the boy's hair more when he felt the hard smacks against his waist.

"Dammit, let me go!"

"No!" Doflamingo yelled. "Say you're sorry!" Right as he made the demand Crocodile changed tactics and hit Doflamingo's lower stomach with his left fist. The boy coughed, but held on, kicking up more sand in hopes of temporary blinding his bigger, stronger friend.

"Ugh, let me go!" Crocodile made another attempt, this time raising his arms up and grabbing hold of Doflamingo's, letting his nails dig into the boy's peached skin. Doflamingo yelped, holding in tears as he tried to quickly think up a way out of this predicament.

"Let go Doflamingo!"

Doflamingo looked down at his reddened arms and briefly considered the pain he was in and thought that perhaps giving in to Crocodile's demands was a good idea. There was a good chance that the older boy would probably kick his ass, but at the very least he wasn't being ignored anymore.

"Let go of my hair!" Another blow to the stomach, this time too strong for Doflamingo hold against. He let go of Crocodile and fell to the ground, his back landing right on top of several small rocks while Crocodile smacked the back of his head against the boulder, both of them whining and whimpering in pain.

"…you fight like a girl," Doflamingo heard Crocodile remark. He stopped rubbing his injured body and sat himself upright and stared at the older boy leaning against the giant rock, nursing his aching head with both his hands.

"You ignored me," Doflamingo said. "And you threw a can at me!"

"You kicked sand in my face!" Crocodile spat back.

"Cause you wouldn't talk to me!" Doflamingo yelled. He rubbed his sides and stared down at his uniform, which was now covered in a nice layer of sand, bits of gravel, dried up twigs and weeds, and soda. "I'm going to get into so much trouble now," he muttered.

"Good," Crocodile said, having caught the boy's quiet remark.

Doflamingo looked up and glared at Crocodile. "Just cause you get into trouble doesn't mean you have to be such a jerk about it!"

Crocodile chuckled, "Am I hurting your feelings?"

Doflamingo huffed. This sort of sadism wasn't unusual with Crocodile, but having it directed at him made bearing with the older boy's negative personality harder, especially coming from a long week of worrying about him. Although his overall health greatly improved, Crocodile has been abnormally passive and silent throughout his stay at Doflamingo's, growing all the more anxious and spastic as the sun set into night. Since his own parents cared little to visit their son's room, Doflamingo himself allowed the boy to stay the rest of the night, hoping that the sleepover would provoke the boy to confess personal mysteries that bugged the younger child.

He had hardly learned a thing. Most of the night was spent with Crocodile distracting Doflamingo away from such questions, and Doflamingo, having always wanted to be the one to entertain Crocodile, fell for it all. It was a real shame that he never noticed how little involved the boy actually was when he played games with him, how he would constantly look out the window with much aspiration, what kind Doflamingo still couldn't tell; those golden eyes hardly ever locking with what was going occurring on the screen. Doflamingo was stupid enough to believe he was beating the boy at just about every game they played.

After begging the maid to provide several helpings of ice cream, which Doflamingo suspected had the properties necessary to fix an upset stomach (he had noticed it was the one thing Crocodile held on to the most during his worst), the two dined and Crocodile would appear at his best out of the entire night. It was around this time Doflamingo had forgotten his goal of learning more about his friend and had simply begun to talk about whatever came across his mind. He'd ask childish questions, most of them having to do with Crocodile in some way, and some of them having to do with his own life, but none of them were deep enough to lead the older boy into panic. He asked questions about school, the difference between his and Crocodile's, about books, pirates, money, oceans, animals, and all other things currently clung to his mind.

They went to bed late. Doflamingo remembered trying to think of a way to casually reach out and hold on to Crocodile. It mattered little; whenever he stirred Crocodile would nudge him away, and roughly too. _Touching leads to dangerous surprises. _

Sometime before he had fallen asleep Doflamingo had gathered enough courage to ask Crocodile about the comment he had made earlier in the day regarding his contempt for his home. His last attempt had failed, but he hoped the warmth of the covers, as well the hospitality he had provided all day, would have softened Crocodile to give him some sort of answer.

He asked Crocodile what was going to happen to him now. The boy had said he wouldn't ever go back home, and although it was a dream that Doflamingo wished he could have made come true, even he knew that such a thing was impossible. He remembered Crocodile once telling him to leave a letter should he ever run away, so that his parents would learn a lesson, and thought about the letter Crocodile must have left for his parents. And unlike Doflamingo, Crocodile had so far successfully done a good job in teaching that lesson; right now his parents had no idea where their son was, and were being emotionally tormented by whatever cruel words Crocodile had chosen to leave behind. But Crocodile would have to go back home now. And there was no way he'd get away with this unpunished.

Crocodile had answered softly, "I don't know what will happen now."

And now, several days later, Crocodile sat in the middle of a desert, renewed and no longer showing signs of sickness, his arms crossed as he stared smugly up at Doflamingo, his thin lips glued together as he laughed through his nose, taking delight in the younger boys struggle to keep cool.

Doflamingo sighed. "No," he lied.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten expelled yet," Crocodile remarked, eyeing the boy's stained clothes. "You say you're always getting into fights," he rubbed his head as he uttered the words, "so unless you're losing them, then there's something going on."

"I'm not a loser," Doflamingo quickly warned.

"Are you lying to me?"

"Nuh-uh," he answered almost as quickly as before.

"Then why are you still going to that school?" Crocodile asked.

"My parents don't want me going to a normal school," Doflamingo answered. "They said I couldn't. They said it's beneath me…"

Crocodile smirked, "so your mommy and daddy are bailing you out?" He laughed, picking up a handful of sand and throwing it in Doflamingo's direction, the wind carrying it out of the way and saving Doflamingo the trouble of even more dirt on his stained uniform. Nevertheless, the child blushed from hearing this and stomped over to Crocodile, pushing the boy right back into the boulder and letting his head once again smack against it.

"Ow! Dammit, Doflamingo!" Crocodile hissed, smacking the boy right on his sore side.

"Why are you so angry today," Doflamingo coughed, managing to hold his own and not fall from the stinging impact.

"None of your business," the older boy answered.

"I don't want you ignoring me," Doflamingo said in a threatening tone. "It's not fair. I didn't do anything…stop acting like I'm the one who made you run away from home. You did. Not me."

"God, you're so annoying," Crocodile said.

"At least I'm not some retard who goes out to the desert when he's sick…and doesn't bring anything with him!" Doflamingo added. He stared down at Crocodile's side, once again realizing that the boy's backpack was not with him.

"Don't you call me a retard," the older boy threatened.

"Yeah, well, guess who didn't bring their backpack with them again?" Doflamingo asked with a cruel grin. "You called me dumb for leaving without food or water, but you did the same twice!"

Crocodile frowned. Doflamingo watched gleefully as the boy struggled to keep his composure, finally giving in with a sigh and responding, "Yeah…but…I don't have my backpack."

"What, did you lose it?" Doflamingo asked with a haughty laugh.

"No." Crocodile lowered his head, hiding the growing scowl on his face. "My mom took it." Almost after saying this Crocodile seemed to soften and looked over to his notebook, grabbed it, and reopened it, his right hand shifting through the sand, searching for the pencil he had lost.

"Why?" Doflamingo asked.

Crocodile didn't answer. He let his notebook rest on his raised legs as his left hand began to aid the right in the search for the lost pencil. Crocodile keep his eyes glued on the notebook.

"Stop ignoring me!" Doflamingo yelled.

Crocodile raised his head up, visibly biting his tongue as he withheld the urge to stand up and smack the blonde.

"She took it cause she thought I wouldn't leave without it!" Crocodile answered, his voice nearly breaking from the sudden scream. "Alright, now shut up!"

So Crocodile was being punished for his last attempt to get back at his family, or at least his mother was. Doflamingo sucked on his bottom lip as he tried to think of how such a punishment would work, after all; Crocodile needed his backpack in order to get to school, so how was he without one now? Doflamingo turned his head and stared at the serene scene of heat arising from the desert ground, further asking himself whether or not Crocodile's father had a say in this strange punishment. He wanted to ask Crocodile, but wasn't sure if he would get an answer, let alone a satisfying one. That, and his last question seemed to have genuinely upset the older boy.

"That sucks," he muttered, looking back at Crocodile.

"She's stupid," Crocodile responded, letting a finger rub against the innards of his notebook. "She couldn't stop me from leaving even if she really tried."

Doflamingo frowned. "Did she take it after you left school?"

Crocodile looked up at Doflamingo, his eyes dull and grave.

"I haven't been to school," he said.

"You haven't?"

"Not all week," he answered.

"Did you get sicker?" Doflamingo asked worryingly.

Crocodile cupped his hands together and covered his mouth, shaking his head at the younger boy. He closed his eyes for several seconds, appearing as though he was preparing to say something to explain this, but when he opened his eyes Doflamingo could see that the boy had regretted confession this strange piece of information and refrained from speaking further on the matter. _Tell me._

"That's weird," Doflamingo said. "But you got to stay home all week, so that must have been nice, right?"

The eleven year old groaned aloud.

"Will you get in trouble with the school?" he asked.

Crocodile stiffly shook his head. "I'm excused," he muttered.

Doflamingo nod his head and then continued to watch the older boy, waiting for him to go back to being cocky and unlikable. But this time Crocodile seemed bothered by something, his eyes continuously looking away as though his mind were preoccupied with something other than the drawings in his notebook.

"Crocodile," Doflamingo said, his voice sincere and hands swaying softly on his sore side.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for pulling your hair," he said.

Crocodile stare blankly at Doflamingo, not entirely sure what to make out of the sudden apology. Such a thing was rare in his young life, and would not occur at higher frequencies till he was much older, when all the secrets were out. "…I'm sorry I threw a can of Coke at you," he finally managed to mutter out after a long, awkward silence.

Doflamingo, no longer worried about the statues of his uniform, sat himself right next to Crocodile, taking in the limited amount of shade there was, and stared at the brutal interpretation that the older boy had scribbled while he was out.

"Crocodile," Doflamingo asked while eyeing the picture, "what did you do with all your treasure?"

Crocodile frowned, turning the page and starting a fresh new depiction. "It's all at home now," he answered.

"Will you bury it again?" Doflamingo asked.

"…I don't think so," he answered. "It was really stupid to leave it all out here."

"But I thought you did it because it was cool," the boy said. "You liked it."

"Just because I like something doesn't mean it's a good idea," Crocodile replied. He pressed the pencil hard against the sheet of paper, dragging a dark line in between the half made figure's legs. "Besides, playing pirates, that's for babies."

Doflamingo frowned. "I really like that game. Stealing money and burying it was so much fun."

"I'll give you your share tomorrow," Crocodile answer without looking at the child's disappointed expression.

"I don't you to just give it to me," Doflamingo whined. Crocodile didn't say a word, only continuing to work on his strange work. Doflamingo made another glimpse at it and figured the boy was trying to correct the mistake he had made between the person's legs, now that there was a dark line between them. But instead he watched Crocodile bring his pencil down and frantically thicken the line, letting the jagged mark grow and crash into a dark puddle that swarmed around the characters legs. It looked terrible, nothing he had seen the boy do before.

"You should erase it," Doflamingo said. "It looks like her guts are falling out…"

"….maybe they are," Crocodile said.

"Nuh-uh," the boy said, pointing at the thickened line. "You draw much better insides than this!" He smiled. "You're just being lazy."

"Am I…," the boy muttered. He stared at the picture and shook his head. "I'm not going to change it."

"…what will you do with the treasure?" Doflamingo asked.

"Save it," the boy responded automatically. He lifted his pencil to the head and let it hover as he thought up an expression to add.

"Just saving?" Doflamingo rested his head against the warm rock and stared up, "how are we gonna get things if we cant spend money?"

"You can spend your money," Crocodile said. "I'm not. I can't spend it right now." He removed the pencil from the picture and let it rest on the sand, leaving the strange, unknown figure without a face. "I need to save it for something."

"What is it?" Doflamingo asked, his eyes glowing with curiosity.

Crocodile closed his notebook and stood up, stretching his arms out in the sunlight. Doflamingo watched in his usual fascination as he glimpsed bits of bare skin while the boys arms were raised, his mind soaking in endorphins as he began to wonder and realize that things had somehow went back to normal. Everything that had occurred the previous weekend was now just some unwanted memory that could easily be erased. Crocodile was in trouble, but despite this he had still managed to get here on his own. Even though they had just fought, things were still ok. Crocodile wasn't going to spend his money and wasn't going to hide his treasure in their private wonderland, but things were still going to be ok.

"Doflamingo," Crocodile said, his hand holding the pencil and notebook. Doflamingo stared at the few articles and felt himself pout, worried that their meeting would be cut short.

"What," he asked hesitantly.

"What's the one thing in the world that you'd really like to have?" Crocodile asked. He gripped the notebook tighter and brought it to his chest, where his other arm met with his right. "The one thing that would make you really, really happy?" he asked desperately. _Did you really think you could buy that happiness?_

Doflamingo assumed this had something to do with what Crocodile wanted to purchase. _Correct._ Of course, whatever he would say, he was sure Crocodile would only ridicule as being less important as what he wanted. _Also true._ What did the boy want to buy? What did he want to buy? What would make him happy, _very happy_?

* * *

Doflamingo's answer, as with any answer to a question raised by Crocodile, of course was met with some insult. Crocodile refused to believe and accept the boy's response as being genuine, but after some long, drawn out argument brought by Doflamingo, Crocodile softened up and bit and nod his head, giving in the boy's answer and even deciding to go ahead and fulfill that desire.

Doflamingo was only too pleased to hear this. There were very few things that would have made him so happy. Although he was gifted with many material things, he really only required a few things to please him. One of these things was Crocodile, which he had. The other thing was a certain object that had he had admired from afar, never having quite enough money to get on his own.

"Which one do you like?" Crocodile asked.

The two of them stood in front of a small, local supermarket, with Doflamingo being hoisted up by Crocodile. Doflamingo squint his eyes, looking through the window and making out the row of colored spectacles that were adorned in the corner of the store, next to the makeup department, it's very location making the heist-to-be rather tricky in nature. There were sunglasses in an array of different shades and shapes, each one appealing to Doflamingo in some way or another. But he knew because of his size and his less than delicate lifestyle that picking a more expensive pair was probably not a good idea. He wanted to prove to Crocodile that he really meant it when he said he would be happy with a pair, and picking something sturdy to survive him was something to consider. He really did the like ones with the purples shades, or the nice looking red ones... maybe another day.

"The thick rimmed ones look pretty cool," Doflamingo said.

"What color?" Crocodile struggled to ask underneath him.

"Black," Doflamingo said.

"What row?" Crocodile coughed.

"Uhm…five!" Doflamingo answered.

"Alright," Crocodile said, suddenly dropping the younger body. Doflamingo struggled to keep balance as the older boy shook his arms out. He was then handed five dollars, money that would not be spent on the sunglasses, but made to achieve the planned theft.

"Remember what I told you," Crocodile said. "You need to be very serious about this."

"I know," Doflamingo said with a wide, excited grin.

He went in first. Doflamingo made his way directly to the cashier, keeping his face a straight as he could, pretending his clothes weren't stained with a day's worth of sweat, dirt, grime, and that half filled can of Coke. He waited in line, keeping his eyes away from the front entrance where Crocodile would soon be walking through, and patiently waited for his turn. He then walked up the clerk, an older woman, and, raising the money up to her, with an innocent smile glued to his face, asked, "excuse me, _Miss_, may I please have a pack of cigarettes?"

This, of course, arose a big enough distraction for Crocodile to take the glasses without being noticed. Although the makeup department was just one aisle away from the cashier the boy was able to pick the pair that Doflamingo had described to him, yank the tag off, and place the sunglasses on him (they fit his face almost perfectly), and walk out of the store without bringing any attention. Doflamingo, on the other hand, was forced into an interrogation as to why a child his age wanted dangerous drugs. He did his part and lied when he had to, making sure to add on as much time as he thought necessary. It only took Crocodile a minute to grab them and leave, but the younger child was stuck in the store for nearly five minutes before let go with a warning.

Once out Doflamingo walked through the town until he hit the liquor store where Crocodile was, waiting for his five dollars, and Doflamingo eager to take the shaded spectacles, ran to him, jumping up and down once he was close enough.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cried, greedily snatching the sunglasses from the boy. He placed them on his face, not caring that they began to slip over his small nose.

"They're too big," he heard Crocodile say.

"I'll get bigger," Doflamingo said, swinging his head to Crocodile and nearly losing the glasses from that simple action. He pushed them back up and stared through the new, darkened world. He saw Crocodile look back at him, his expression somehow changed through the shades perception.

"So, you like them?" Crocodile asked.

"Uh-huh!" Doflamingo said. He let his fingers grab hold of the shining plastic as he continued to push the sunglasses up to his face.

"You better take care of them," Crocodile said. "I'm pretty sure they had cameras. We might not be allowed to go back there."

He opened his hand to Doflamingo, who then handed the boy his money. As the two made their back into the neighborhood Doflamingo continued to fondle his new prize, ever the more grateful for Crocodile as he stared up at the sky, the houses, and eventually the park. He thought once more about the comment Crocodile had said, and then wondered what sort of thing Crocodile wanted to buy himself, and then questioned if he could help Crocodile just as they boy had helped him. _Yes._

Doflamingo didn't ask because he knew Crocodile would only say "no" to his suggestion. He knew he'd have to wait a while before he could earn his way into aiding the boy that way. It was hard enough to get him to come over to his house without Crocodile nearly breaking down, it would be even harder to get him to admit that he might need help buying whatever it was he wanted to buy. Still, there was something he had to ask.

"How much does it cost?" Doflamingo asked.

"What?" Crocodile said, stopping.

"What you want to buy?" Doflamingo asked, continuing onward till he was just ahead of Crocodile. "How much will it cost for you go get it?"

He shrugged. "I don't really know."

"Then how will you know you have enough to get it?" the boy asked, pushing up the sunglasses again.

The older boy crossed his arms, letting the notebook he held dangle between a few fingers as he stared out, not entirely sure himself.

"How long do you think it will take for you to save enough?" Doflamingo then asked; only making Crocodile more silent as he tried to think up a reasonable answer that would satisfy both of them.

Crocodile sighed. "Hopefully not too long…" He looked nervous as he said those words. Doflamingo chose not to continue to conversation, deciding to focus on the start of a brand new cycle, him and his new treasure, and celebrate that things had almost gone back the way they were before.

The two went to the very end of the park where Doflamingo had left his bike chained. He wanted to stay at the park, knowing quite well that the desert would no longer hold the fun and secrets as before, but Crocodile refused to remain there. There were playgrounds and trees at the park, and there was hardly a thing out in the desert anymore, Doflamingo had argued. The rocks were too hot. There was hardly any shade. The scorpions and tarantulas were hiding this time of the day. There was no treasure to protect. What was the point of spending the hottest parts of the day in such a lonely place?

"I like it there," Crocodile said.

"Just stay here and draw something," Doflamingo said. He remembered the faceless woman and grabbed the boy's arm. "You can finish your picture."

"The stupid picture is already done," Crocodile said. "I don't want to draw and I can't stay here. I already told you I wasn't supposed to leave."

Doflamingo had listened carefully to those last words and put it together to mean that Crocodile must live very close, if not right next to, the park. No sooner had this entered his mind did he suddenly give glances around the neighborhood that enveloped the park and wonder which one they boy might be living in.

"I'm leaving," Crocodile said.

Doflamingo stopped. "Don't go," he said. "We can stay at the very back…"

Crocodile looked frustrated from the incessant whining that Doflamingo continued to throw at him, but rather than say something cruel, or even start another fight, Crocodile chose to perform another one of those rare decision that he would hardly ever do. Part of this was simple because he had had enough of Doflamingo and had grown tired of dealing with him, another part was because–or at least Doflamingo like to think so–he cared about Doflamingo enough to let him in on what was going on, not enough to really know what was going on, but enough to not upset the boy.

So Crocodile told him that valuable piece of information that he ought to have told the boy some hours prior to this wonderful day. Because, by telling him now, after everything the boy had experienced, he was essentially tearing apart everything Doflamingo had theorized about that day.

"We're not going to hang out on Friday anymore." And Doflamingo couldn't find the strength to fix the position of his sunglasses.

_Oh, the horror_. Things were changing.

* * *

**-Now-**

Doflamingo sat outside a small coffee shop, sipping on his chocolate, skimmed cappuccino, waiting for the young woman who had responded to his personal add. Once in a while he would hear a loud "cling" or "clang" from behind him, all of this caused by Vergo's terrible eating habits, and he would grow somewhat nervous and ask himself if bringing the older man was a good idea. He wanted to make sure this possible, new associate would work well within his industry, and thought it appropriate to bring Vergo along and listen in on the conversation. The man had a weekend break from his training, so although Doflamingo could very well dismiss Vergo from the interview, it would have been an offensive waste of the older man's time, and Doflamingo wasn't sure he could bear with that. There was nothing worse than wasting time.

"Doflamingo Donquixote?"

He raised his eyes up, looking though the small space of his lowered sunglasses and stared at a young woman with dyed green hair and large, thick glasses.

"You're Monet?" he asked, smiling and lowering his cup.

She gave a quick nod. She removed her glasses and let them hang on her tank top. Doflamingo couldn't help but notice her pale skin, all the more serene once he stared at those pinkish lips performing the flirtatious smirk.

"May I?" she asked, pointing at the chair in front of the round table where he sat. He quickly noticed the French accent and gave into a smirk, gesturing her to relax as he pulled his cup from the center of the table, allowing her the necessary space.

Once she was seated he dove right in, giving her no opportunity to think too much on answers. He wanted a woman that could lie, but he wanted someone he knew everything about.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Quebec," she answered smoothly.

Canada was neither as exotic or as arousing as France, but it was close enough for her to almost be an American in nature.

"Quebec's very far from California," Doflamingo commented.

"Call me a fan of the American Dream," she responded.

Doflamingo chuckled, leaning in and letting his chair hit the back of Vergo's. He heard the sound glass hitting the floor and breaking, but managed not to react to it.

"Is that why you responded?" he asked. "You think I'll make your dreams come true?"

"I'll make my own dreams come true," she said, still smiling confidently at Doflamingo. She picked up the menu resting on the table and lifted it to her face, but kept her eyes on him, not breaking away from any eye contact. She was good.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Sixteen," she answered. "Too young to stay at your place, I presume?"

"No, you're old enough," he said. "But do you have any family members looking for you?" He clasped his hands together, carefully watching Monet as he she dropped the menu, allowing him to look for any twitching muscles, evading eyes, sweat.

"I have no family," she answered stoically.

"None at all?"

"No," she said. "Other than my age, you really have little to worry about." She fixed her tank top and relaxed her arms on the table. "I'm an adult on my Visa, and I have the right to work under any profession you choose to mark. I'm bilingual, which was one of your criteria, I've been described as trustworthy, and I have always taken my jobs seriously."

"How many jobs could a sixteen year old have held?"

She tilt her head to the side and let it hand above her shoulder. "You'd be quite surprised."

"Would I?" he asked. He could feel himself being pulled closer into her round, brown eyes. In the sunlight they almost appeared amber. But it still wasn't gold. He almost wished she wasn't here for a potential job.

"How do I know you wont cause me any trouble?" he asked her.

"I told you I'd make my dreams come true," she said. "I just need the resource's to get there. I think you'll provide them to me."

"And what would you do for them?"

"Everything your ad hinted at, I'd be able to do for you."

Doflamingo heard Vergo cough. Whether it was a sign he liked what he was hearing, or almost choking on a piece of muffin, he wasn't too sure. But he did like Monet. She seemed serious about this. She came dressed in tight enough clothing to let him know she was bugged for the conversation. She said the right things. She knew how and when to make eye contact. She was young. She was very attractive.

"Vergo?" Doflamingo said aloud.

Vergo turned his head and leaned in close to Doflamingo, nearly tapping the back of his chair against Doflamingo's. He watched Monet's eyes rise once Vergo grabbed the table, staring at her through his dark shades. In his other hand was half a muffin being squeezed in his overly powerfully grip. She didn't look too surprised.

"Yes Sir?" he asked.

"Finish the interview," Doflamingo asked.

"Sir?"

"I can't allow any bias in deciding whether or not she meets your requirements." Doflamingo rested his hand on Vergo's shoulder. "She's supposed to work under you, after all."

"I understand," he said in his ever-usual stoic tone.

Doflamingo got up from his seat, smiling at Monet and said, "thank you for your time. I'll have my associate finish the rest of the interview. It shouldn't take to long, unless he really likes you."

"Is he picky?" she asked, making a quick glance at Vero who was now sitting himself down where Doflamingo once sat.

"Extremely," Doflamingo answered. "But don't you worry your pretty little head. He won't do anything awful to you should you fail the interview."

For the first time he saw Monet produce a frown. Apparently the thought of her possibly being harmed had not occurred. Doflamingo took pride in knowing he had brought that animal fear out her confident self.

Vergo offered his muffin filled hand to Monet. "Please to meet you. Let us get started on some necessities that–"

"Your hand has a muffin in it," Doflamingo interrupted.

Vergo looked down at the hand he was to shake with Monet and shook his head. "My apologies," he said to the young girl. "I can be…rather forgetful about these things." Monet appeared a little shocked by the strange offering, but held her own, keeping her eyes off the crumbled treat locked into his tight grasp.

"I'll leave you two alone," he said. He looked to Vergo and added, "Call me when things have been finalized."

"Of course," Vergo answered.

Doflamingo walked away from the café, feeling well about the brief conversation he had with the girl. She seemed almost too perfect for the job, yet she didn't come off as particularity false. If Vergo liked her then he would have a new underling under his control, and his small empire would hopefully grow for the better.

Once in the busier side of town Doflamingo pulled out his phone and went through his contacts. Sadly, even with the potential good news, his work was never done, and Caesar had called throughout the week informing him of his disappointment in downsizing the drug trade. Doflamingo managed to ignore the first few calls without much problem, but then he had heard the last message where Caesar had reported a new breakthrough in the purity rate of their product, nearly seventy-two percent.

That was good enough to sell abroad.

If Caesar could do that with cocaine, then he could certainly do that with harder drugs. Doflamingo normally wouldn't care for such a trade, but at such a high pure percentage, it would be foolish of him to not allow Caesar the money and time needed to bring up the production and further the purity to outsource his product. It would mean putting the slave trade on the backburner for a while, but it allow Doflamingo time to make even more money. The business would have cost quite a bit to start, so giving Caesar this opportunity would only benefit him in the long run. Of course, producing heroin brought an assortment of new issues for him to deal with. Once Violet was finished selling her share she would be all but useless, and Doflamingo couldn't have her running around with all that she knew. And having only Vergo sell wouldn't help raise profits, so this meant he would need to hire more heads to help sell his produce.

"Ceasar," Doflamingo said into his phone. "Is the final batch finished?"

"Yes, just barely," Ceasar voice echoed in his ear. "You'll be able to hand it in to Vergo and Violet shortly." Doflamingo could hear his voice shake with excitement, and he knew it wasn't the cocaine that was making him act this way.

"Excellent," he muttered. He paused a moment, listening to Caesar's rapid breathing, waiting for him to ask about the first batch of their product. He moved his phone a few inches away from his ear, anticipating that annoying, shrill laugh once he did choose to ask Caesar about the batch.

"Is it ready for testing?" Doflamingo asked.

"Testing? Shu-rororo! You're joking right?" Caesar asked. "This stuff is quite the product. You wont be disappointed!"

"I don't ever joke about these things," Doflamingo said in a threatening tone. A few people he passed turned their heads as he let a deep frown grow on his face. "I know you're excited about this, but we cannot let anything through unless it meets my standards! When I get over there nothing better be packaged. I see anything ready to be distributed without my consent and I'll flush it all down your toilet."

He continued walking in no particular direction, listening to Caesars whimpers though the other line. He felt himself smirk as he heard Caesar speak again, this time in a more humbled tone.

"Of course," Caesar said. "I'll have some placed out for you too look at."

"I want nothing in packages." Doflamingo warned.

"Y-you won't."

"Good, I'll see you in about an hour," Doflamingo said in a cheerier voice. He closed his phone and hung up the call.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and then noticed that his sunglasses had slipped sometime during his walk. Without a though he pushed them back up the bridge of his nose, smiled, and turned back to the direction of the coffee house, confident that Monet had proven herself to Vergo.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Please sent any comments or critique with a review! :)


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